Acrobat
by Devilita
Summary: Draco’s living in London but is not feeling quite alright. In a flash of green his life takes an interesting turn. (non-magical AU, adult-themes Harry&Draco mainly)
1. Pure Morning

_Title:_ Acrobat

_Author:_ Devilita

_Beta-reader:_ Sarya

_Rating:_ R

_Disclaimer:_ The characters aren't mine, but the story is

_A/N:_ I got this huge inspiration to write this fic when I saw Placebo's music video of _'Pure Morning'_. Brian Molko's gorgeous in the video, as is the Draco I see, so this is what my mind started cooking :)

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_**Chapter One: Pure Morning** _

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Absolute freedom.

The sweet feeling of oxygen in my lungs. It's windy up here. My used-to-be-white, sleeveless Ziggy Stardust shirt is way too cold to wear in March, and protectively I wrap my arms around myself.

I look down, there are people. As I stand on the edge of the roof, I can feel the cold concrete numbing my toes and tiny stones boring into my feet. The people down there are yelling something, and a woman in a dark green suit is calmly explaining something about a psychologist she knows and about the importance of me not taking a step forward. I'm on the eighth floor, policemen have cleared the area under the point where I stand. The parking area's getting crowded, people have come to see my little display. Women with shopping bags are just standing there immobilized, not noticing how their children look up at me, wide-eyed, wondering what that silly man is standing there for. I do not want them to see this, but I am not the one to tell off their parents for being weak enough to be stunned by my intentions.

It's poetic. The clouds above me run across the sky, making my blond hair shine under the sunlight when the rays hit it, also making my messy, unwashed strands look dirty grey when they don't.

Lifting my gaze up again, I can see how people are watching my actions from the opposite building. Faces glued to the windows, they breathe against the glass, eyes wide, waiting.

"Please, go back inside! It's not worth it!"

I am not doing this because I have no other choice, that would be a plain cliché, wouldn't it? Because I know I have a choice, many even, I'd say.

I suppose the one I'm considering now is rather clear for every spectator, and if it's not then I daresay they're slightly naïve.

I could also stand here until a policeman sneaks up on me. Me, of course, pretending not to have heard him, then forcefully being dragged inside the building and pinned against the floor. I'd protest this very vocally and physically all the time, throwing dirty insults at the man who's still shaking with adrenaline that was formed during the ambush. Then, I'd be waiting for the other policemen to come and take me to the police station, after which they'd cart me to St. Mungo's, the Mental Hospital which I once visited when I was at the angst-ridden age of thirteen.

Oh well, I could also do as the strangers ask me to do, go inside and wait until the policemen come and take me away, seating me in front of a blank-faced psychiatrist, being forced to listen to the person's empty assurances, 'heal' and go home.

And then back to the point I'm in at the moment.

Somehow the two latter options don't seem appealing to me.

I know that I'm very pretty for a boy, people have always told me so, but I do know that after one step and after the few following seconds I will not be such anymore. A mere faceless bloody pulp on the asphalt that doesn't hear the people's screams and sobs and just generally the sound of other people's activities that are so alive when I'm not. Or even when I am.

This amazing feeling of total power over my own life is beath-taking, I haven't felt this alive for months. If I wanted to be dramatic, I'd say that it has been years since I was this peaceful, but that would be a lie, concidering the fact that during last New Year's Eve things were running pretty high. But this time the substance that intoxicates me is just the mere air that was cleaned by a brisk downpour that occurred just ten minutes ago. Fifteen minutes ago I stepped onto the roof's edge, fifteen minutes ago my decision was one hundred per cent confirmed.

Fifteen minutes ago people started caring about me.

Those people down there don't even know me. They only see a blond-haired wreck of a young man who obviously has lost his mind. No no no, I am not a mental case, certainly not. They are asking why I want to jump, but I am not going to tell them. And at this point I am going to say the teenagers' legendary top10 phrase (I wish there was some drumming in the background). They would not understand.

May I introduce myself to you, my little friends obviously only existing inside my pretty, arrogant head. I am Draco Lucius Malfoy, the disowned son of the Finland ambassor to Britain, born in Wiltshire nineteen years ago, currently residing in London and working as a part-time shell of a man behind the counter of Burger King. But why are my eyes rimmed with dark eyeliner and why am I wearing red lipstick, you may ask. Because I am, as my father so generously always reminded me, a fairy queen.

Back in Hogwarts School for Kids Born to Rich Bastards I was quite popular and known for having a hot temper, but also for being the Drama Queen of the school. I was the one who got adored by lesser people, for I was everything they wanted to be and wanted to have. But no one got me, not really. Physically maybe, but when it came to mushy emotions I was left intact. I was never really into that lot, unless my horny libido claimed otherwise. It's not like they cared about my feelings, the body was the only thing they were able and willing to touch.

Now I can see that they have an ambulance there and that the crowd is enormous.

"Come on, poof, do us a favour and jump already!"

Hehehe, that must have been some fourteen-year-old toughie whose voice has just broken, and is who probably wearing some baggy trousers and an over-sized hooded jacket.

_"Do us a favor and disappear before your father arrives, Draco!" _

_"Yes, mother."_

"Yes, mother." My whisper is drowned in the wind, the sky seems to darken again, and maybe we'll even get a thunderstorm. Pity I won't be there to see it.

I move a bit closer to the edge, hearing the startled gasps coming from the crowd and the increased amount of yelling. I can feel it how people gape at me even more intently. Those little ants move restlessly behind the cleared area's boundaries.

A man with a loudspeaker orders me to step back and wait, saying that committing suicide won't solve anything. How the hell would _he_ know? If I'm gone there is nothing _to_ solve.

My feet are now completely numb, I can't feel the coldness nor the uneven concrete. I am not nervous, but nevertheless my heart keeps racing in my chest. Maybe I am a little bit scared of the pain? But I must not think of that. I'm too far gone.

This is it.

I try to smile at the people down below, feeling a few droplets of rain kiss my bare arms.

My right leg feels so light as I lift it over the edge, feeling how the force of nothingness emanates from the ground, rising up towards the sky.

People scream.

I lean forwards, closing my eyes.

The voyage is over in a few seconds.

I lay on the ground, feeling the coldness and ache in my muscles. It feels like there's a weight on top of me which prevents me from rising.

Why am I still able to think? Aren't the dead supposed to be…dead? I notice that my head's not crushed and that my brains aren't smashed out of my skull, put on view for all people to see. But there is the taste of blood in my mouth, and I'm sure the skin of my right cheek is broken.

I turn my head, none too easily because of the weight that makes my chest ache and breathing come out as ragged wheezes.

Green eyes meet mine.

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_A/N:_ I am not entirely sure if I'm going to continue this story, since I like it the way it is, already. But _please_, reviews!

Um, and why is Draco's dad the Finland ambassor to Britain? Because the fair features and high cheekbones plus grey/blue eyes remind me of Scandinavians. Ooh, well sue me!

_**-Devilita-**_


	2. Save The Day

_A/N:_ Huuuge thank yous to all reviewers and my wonderful beta-reader, **Sarya**! I will continue this story, as I noticed how much I can get out of this. I dunno how long this'll be, and knowing my way to write angst/romance the plot is likely to stretch quite generously…

On with the story! Reviews are extremely appreciated, you give me motivation! Eskobar's '_Save The Day'_ was my inspiration to this chapter.

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**_Chapter Two: Save The Day_**

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He is gorgeous.

Eyes shining like green fire, I can see the mysteriousness and openness of his core both at the same time. Behind those eyes lingers something unknown, something I haven't ever come across before. I can do nothing but stare at him, even though my neck protests such a position painfully. He's captured my arms behind my back, pushing my chest and thighs, which he straddles, against the ground.

"Stay still!"

Oh dear God. I can feel his breath on the nape of my neck. Feeling the amazing sensation of my hips being pressed against his warm body I wriggle beneath him to gain a more convenient position.

"I said _stay still_, everything's ok."

And it certainly is. Gasping for breath I nod obediently, lowering my gaze and laying my cheek against the ground as sheer exhaustion suddenly takes over me. It feels like I've just woken up and the urge to stretch my stiff muscles is overwhelming.

He won't rise, he won't risk the chance of me springing up and running over the roof. Like hell I would do such a foolish thing now that I have a stunning male on top of me! The green-eyed man with ink black hair apparently sees my discomfort and eases the pressure in order to let me breathe more freely.

"You okay?"

Puffing like mad I nod a bit reluctantly, the dust that I'm breathing from the ground is not good for my asthma. Coughing, I recall the time when one of my dad's acquaintances brought his daughter to our place, and the damned bitch almost drowned me in our pond in the garden!

Oh, his palm is warm against my shoulder blade.

"Freeze!"

Ah, the bloody cavalry has arrived. The weight is being lifted and I'm grabbed by my armpits, and heaved into a standing position.

I hear the soft click of handcuffs, and the cold metal against my wrists makes a shiver run up my spine. Glaring at the offending hands I stagger along as I'm being dragged into an elevator with a herd of policemen. I feel like I'm a criminal, when are they going to notify my rights?

Glancing over my shoulder I see my 'saviour' standing in the same spot, his black locks ruffled by the wind. Under the sunshine I can see that his hair isn't actually black, but very, very dark brown. As the sunlight hits his eyes they glow in an unearthy sort of way, preventing me from thinking about anything else apart from him. As the door of the elevator closes, the spell is broken and reality strikes again.

Blinking my eyes, I once again sink deep into my thoughts, even though they don't run very fast at the moment for some reason. My head is full of some thick, jelly-like substance with small bubbles that twist the course of any sensible conceptions.

I almost committed suicide.

I managed to shock the authorities, firemen, ambulance folk and common passers-by.

I was saved by an unfamiliar man, and the thoughts of escaping were swiftly zero to nil.

Swallowing hard, and eyes widening I understand the situation.

I am royally screwed.

"Hey, watch it, you half-wit!" I snarl as one policeman pulls me out of the elevator rather violently. He doesn't take any notice of my comment and I keep chewing my lower lip irritably.

Oh great, they have formed a cleared path for me in front of the building. It feels like I'm a film star going to see the premiere of my own film in some flamboyant theater, with limousines and furry little handbags and evening gowns and everything. I beam charmingly as the press tries to blind me with their flashing cameras, hearing how people mutter to one another in wary voices.

I'm being pushed into a car, feeling a hand pressing my head down to prevent me from knocking it against the doorway of the police car.

Resting my chin against my breastbone, I slump down onto the backseat of the car next to a policewoman. I don't feel like asking anything nor wanting to explain myself, so I keep quiet as the door closes and people's eyes linger on me, even when I'm already inside the car.

I see _him_ stepping out of the building, walking next to a cop. He does not listen to the other man's questions, just stares at me as I'm being taken away. As the car rounds the corner I lose eye-contact and turn to look at the driver through the front mirror.

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Police station.

Investigation and psychologists' questions.

Bursting into tears and a crushing story about my childhood and difficulties of being gay. More fake crying. Psychologists' understanding and soothing words. Sniff. Promises to go to a therapist and off we go.

I throw the therapist's visiting card into a litterbin outside the police station. Deciding to head for home, I stroll along the street that, through a few shortcuts, leads to the nearest underground station. Offhandedly, I check my smeared make-up in a pocket mirror as I stand by a busy junction, waiting for the traffic lights to change.

People next to me start crossing the road and following their example I glance at the lights. I can see that they have turned green -

I stop in mid-stride.

Green.

It's always green.

The traffic lights are green, I'm free to cross the road.

Green is a good colour, a beautiful colour.

At the police station they must know who my Green Miracle is.

Hurriedly I step back, for the lights have turned red once again. People mill around me, gripping their umbrellas, soaking their shoes and probably their socks, too, as they run around, splashing water onto my motionless feet.

I see the entrance of the underground, there are small waterfalls falling to each step and the trickles – correction - _brooks_ form small ponds in the places where the water has nowhere to escape.

And I hadn't even noticed it has begun to rain.

It seems like it's evening already, at least nine. Inside the busses lights are bright yellow and ordinary little shops are still open. Cafés smelling of hot mocha coffees and fresh Danish pastries are full of people escaping from the rain. I can see how one young couple are holding hands across the table behind the big window, both holding steaming cups of coffee in their free hands, their hair in wet knots and still smiling happily to one another.

I feel a bang inside of me, my throat clenching.

Restaurants' doors are wide open, waiting for customers. I can hear all kinds of music coming from the bars, and the people that stumble into me apologize hastily and continue on their way to wherever they're going.

And I, the soaked blond man, just stands there in my Ziggy Stardust shirt, feeling how the thin fabric stretches from the weight of the rainwater. Shit, it's glued to my skin, and I don't think my pants are in any better condition, either. My hair is plastered to my forehead and the water runs along my reddened nose, my jaw line, down my neck and soaking the currently see-though sleeveless even more.

And what do I do?

I turn around and head for the police station once again, seeing how an ambulance rushes its way past me to go somewhere and help somebody.

.

..

... TBC ...

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_A/N: Answers to reviews..._

**dangerous-beans:** thanks, i have tendency to write quite much suspense. If you like it, you might want to read my fic called 'Draco Darling's MerryGoRound'.

**Catmint:** hehe, there is no need to plead for more. I certainly am willing to continue this story, since every chapter gives me even more inspiration.

**Liber Creperum-Liber Diabolus:** -bows- I certainly will write at least three chapters.

**illusionbutterfly:** thank you so much, but as I've said, I am not going to end this story any time too soon : )

**Foxx666:** No, Draco did not die, and Harry (yes, I believe you all guessed the green-eyed man is Harry) did not come too late.

**GaBoO:** thankee, can't say anything else to that, really.

**Miyahara Yuuki:** thanks for reviewing, I also had the feeling that maybe I shouldn't end all my stories in places like this, full of cliffhangers.

**rupertsgurl:** I am. I will : )

**Spideria:** -hysteric cackle- you know your review has been one of the funniest ones I can remember… Yes yes, the story continues.

**Janche:** -snort- thanks for reviewing, Duck.

**evil queen:** thanks!

**sylver:** Thanks for reviewing, it's always nice to hear that people like my writings.

_Reviews are extremely appreciated, you give me motivation!_

_-_

_-Devilita._


	3. Fascination And Fear

_A/N:_ The song's** Human Drama**'s _Fascination And Fear_. I've had this great inspiration to write this story again, and a nice part of the next chapter is already written. Therefore, I think the next chapter's updating won't take this long again.

Thanks to my beta-reader **Sarya**, who still managed to betaread the chapter even though she's busy. And a BIG thank you to all reviewers! More, I plead, MORE!

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**_Chapter Three: Fascination And Fear_**

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I see drunk teenagers everywhere, laughing and drinking whatever they have in their bottles. Girls giggling at guys, squirming in their short skirts and flirting openly. Boys acting macho, tough as what, and resting their palms on girls' arses. And that's what they are, just girls and boys…

"Watch out, arsehole!"

Waving my hand disrespectfully at the driver, whom I pissed off by rushing carelessly across the road, I continue my promenade towards the police station, narrowly missing the cars that don't always see me in the dark or just don't care.

I have to hurry, _he_ might be leaving for home anytime. Damnit, my shoes are so soaked that the water, that is now warmed by my body heat, feels disgusting between my toes.

I am running, not caring about the swearing passers-by who dislike it when I splash water from the puddles onto their shoes, as I run along the sidewalk. It's not like their already ruined shoes would suffer tremendously from a few extra droplets of water, I bet they get annoyed 'just because'. Oh well, it's none of my concern.

The police station isn't too far away, and after fifteen minutes of light running, I find myself pulling the handle of the main door and stepping inside. My clothes are dripping water and there's a small pool forming around my feet. My hair is in rat tails, and I don't even dare to think about the condition of my make-up anymore.

"Excuse me, have you seen a dark-haired, green-eyed young man here recently?" I ask a rather young female police officer who happens to walk past me.

She turns her attention towards me and clearly cringes at my outer appearance. She's holding a pile of papers in her arms, but manages to point with her finger at another young woman behind the desk, next to the rooms where I was investigated. "Ask that woman over there, she might be able to tell you."

I nod a polite thank you and she rushes away, minding her own business. Hastily I try to comb my hair into some kind of order with my fingers, but I guess it's no use.

"Hello, can I help you?" The woman asks cheerfully, looking directly (and disturbingly intensely) into my eyes and smiles.

"Yes, I'd like to know if you've seen a young man here, about two or three inches taller than me, dark hair and green eyes." I look down at her, hope shining in my eyes, as I beg her to say 'yes, I have seen him'.

"And who are you?"

"Draco Malfoy. I was brought here today and I would think that he was, too."

"I am sorry, but if you don't know his name, it is impossible for me to see if he has been here."

I'm getting annoyed. "All I want to know is if you've seen someone like him here. I am sure his name has been mentioned in my files at some point, so if you'd be so kind to check what that name is."

"I am dearly sorry, but I am not allowed to hand out any information of this sort, you have to contact –"

"Look", I look at the woman behind the counter coldly, "He saved my life today, and I just want to thank him for what he did. I'm not some kind of blood-thirsty stalker who'd misuse the information, so you could just as well check for his phone number, or address or anything."

Her voice is tense now and her eyes aren't that warm anymore. "I cannot do that, sir. There are certain rules for us and personal data is something that –"

Getting. Pissed. Off.

"So, are you saying that I walked all the way back here in the rain for nothing?? It cannot be THAT hard for you to –"

"Please, sir, calm down or else I'll have to call the guards –"

"- check that one little piece of information and I'd be out of your hair in a second –"

"Jim! Aaron! We have a problem here!"

"FINE!" I throw my hands in the air and act like a baby, I know it, and I also know that this kind of behaviour is not helping anyone.

Frustrated with myself, I huff and puff and suddenly feel the huge need to rip out my hair. Irritated at the whole police system and my own inefficiency, I wrench the door open and step under the rain, shivering as once again the cold water connects with the warm water in my clothes. I can't remember when I last felt like shedding tears of anger, squeezing my fists so hard that my nails would pierce the skin of my palms, roaring up at the sky like a wild beast, and kicking the ground so hard that my foot would go through the surface of the pavement. The need to show the whole world how fed up I am with the all of this, all the misfortunes that I've experienced, all that smothering of my emotions, and keeping up the façade that was built way before I was even born. I know that I am not the way 'mommy and daddy' wanted me to be, and that the bloody etiquette that was forced into me isn't really necessary for me to follow anymore. But nonetheless, I am _still_ the same arrogant, spoiled rich kid who can't stand it when something doesn't go as planned.

The sickly feeling of self-hatred rushes into my system once again, oh God I hate this feeling! I am nothing but an unnecessarity, a person who knows nothing and wants everything.

How _dare_ that woman say 'no' to me and ruin my plans that never really existed in the first place!

How _dare_ that rain touch my skin that is so stained already!

How _dare_ those people just walk past me, gripping their umbrellas without seeing how angered I am!

How _dare_ my parents raise their child to become like this!

Aiming all the strength that seeps through my pores, I kick at the very same bin where I threw that visiting card in just an hour ago. My foot connects with the thing with a loud bang, but unfortunately the pavement's glistering surface betrays me, and I fall.

I fall backwards, feeling how the ground disappears beneath me for a small period of time, until I feel my back hit the hard ground, causing me to hit my head.

"Such an idiot" I manage to mutter as something that I might call 'fairy dust' dances in front of my aching eyes.

My arse is sore, my head aches, my eye-sight is unfocused and I feel dizzy.

_'Bloody fantastic. Just my luck.'_

The irony is just too much.

The embarrassment.

I feel blank, but nonetheless I manage to understand how childishly I've been acting, and how much I actually deserve to get kicked in the head by fate. It's not like I yearn to get what I deserve and fulfill my destiny, I just understand why things go like this. But aren't morons like me (yes, I am able to fit into that category) supposed to be ignorant of how stupid they are? Oh well, I guess ignorance is bliss, as they say. This is where the problem appears.

'Here I am: a moron that is still proficient to comprehend his own situation, and therefore incapable of enjoying the sweetness of unawareness. The person who created me and my mental capacity must have been rather pissed or a lover of satire.'

And now I'm thinking things too deeply. The headache, that was due to the falling, just increases its potency and I realise that I haven't eaten since yesterday. I don't have enough money with me to buy anything filling to eat (for I expected to be dead by now), but in order to avoid dehydration I should buy something to drink, maybe something warm like coffee.

Throwing one menacing look at the damned bin, I scramble to my feet and head for the nearest café. I cross the vacant road that separates the police station from a little park, that is currently completely empty. There's some sort of pedestrian street pretty near the other end of the park and I can see the fine line of little shops and cafés on both sides of it. I think I ran along this street as I came back to the police station to find my mystery man, but I can't be sure. I have a bad street name memory and I didn't really care about my surroundings at the time.

I end up stepping inside this one Italian café that has dim lighting and green, rather exquisitely carved chairs, with one white flower in a vase on each round mahogany table. The paintings on the walls give a home-like impression, and the faint music in the background is rather soothing. I kind of like it, but somehow it also makes me wonder if the person who owns the place had any idea of what Italian cafés are like. I am not an expert on Italian cafés, but I had always imagined such places to be somewhat cheerful and full of laughter. A bit like the way the huge, ordinary families act in those Italian TV-series. The people I see are not exactly glum, I can see them smiling and talking quietly, but the urgency, quick moves and everything are gone. I guess it might also be the weather that makes people act this calmly.

The queue is not long and as it's my turn I order one latte and start rummaging through my pockets for few coins.

I feel my finder going through the pocket of my trousers.

Oh, damn.

A sudden wave of dizziness makes me stumble backwards and I fall into a chair.

"Love, are you okay?" The elder Italian woman with a foreign accent behind the counter asks worriedly, leaning over the counter.

"Ye-yeah", I nod and heave myself up again, grabbing the armrest to balance myself. "Sorry, I don't have any money with me. Could I please get a glass of water?"

"Don't worry, I'll pay for your coffee", a male voice says behind me. The voice is like warm honey, not overly sweet, but the kind of welcoming tenderness makes something inside me feel…just warm. The voice is familiar, I turn to look at the person…

And it's _him_.

…

..

.

… TBC …

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_A/N: Commnets, comments…_

**Janche:** -bows- Kiitos.

**GaBoO:** You're not an idiot, I just have this way of writing a bit not-so-clear text, and the desired, confusing impression of the moment apparently caught you.

**Liber Creperum-Liber Diapolus:** (you have no idea how hard it is to type your nick correctly) Thanks for reviewing!

**Quirky Persnickety:** Usually I like Harry Potter AU's, especially if it's in a world where is no magic. I am honoured that an anti-AU person likes my story :)

**Foxx666:** heh heh, well there was the chapter again, thanks for reviewing, dahl.

**blade-princess:** No worries, more is coming. Thanks for the review.

**dangerous beans:** I know I have to continue, I'm hooked myself. –kisses on your hand-

**illusionbutterfly:** -deep bow- Thank you for your piece of motivation and the sweet review :)

**Miyahara Yuuki:** Heh, thankee.

**Brennend:** I daresay Harry's thoughts are going to be revealed rather soon. Thanks!

_-Devilita._


	4. Tumbling Down

A/N: Sorry, I don't have time to comment on people's reviews, I'm in kinda hurry with updating this fic coz my dad's gonna kick me off the comp any second. Anyways, thanks Sarya again for beta-reading and for all lovely reviews I've gotten! I was in a weird mood while writing this LOOOONG chapter so I dunno about the result… The song's The Venus In Furs' 'Tumbling Down'.

EDIT: I had to send this chapter here again, since my beta had read the wrong version of it... So there might be few grammar mistakes, don't kill me.

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_Chapter four: Tumbling Down_

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My breath catches in my throat, my eyes are now completely focused as I stare at the pair of smiling eyes turned towards me.

I had thought that the lack of feeling iwould be bliss, but this goes far beyond even that…

I am in a fairy tale, I have to be, and a bloody damsel in distress, for my saviour has come again, his wet locks framing his beautiful face in the faint lighting of the café. The dark greens of the room are mere insignificant shadows of the background compared to the vivid fire that flickers in the emerald mirrors of his soul. I ask for your forgiveness as I say the soppiest of the soppiest sentences ever to exist:

I could drown in those eyes.

Few days ago I would have snorted at such an expression for its corniness, but now that I, myself, actually mean it and understand the feelings behind it, the phrase has a whole new significance to me. I could happily lose myself in the velvety, green shades of his eyes, spin around again and again, feeling the tickling sensation of the velvet, dance along the wild violin concerto that only I can hear and after few centuries of dancing I would wrap myself in the softness that is _him_, and snuggle against the green velvet, refusing to leave and I would stay there until the end of the world.

I am speechless. Situations like this can only be read from mushy love novels, but now I feel like I'm suddenly living one.

Ordering one black coffee for himself he digs a few coins from his pocket, hands them to the lady and turns to place the cups of coffee onto the table next to which I slumped in the moment of dizziness. I can feel my gaze glazing over as I wander around the world behind my eyes.

_"Draco?"_ Someone says somewhere far away.

I have this weird tickling sensation somewhere in my back, as if the velvet was kissing me there for real.

"Draco!"

I snap out of it and understand that I must have looked quite lost for a moment.

"Are you alright?" He frowns and let's his eyes roam over my body and I feel myself blush like a silly schoolgirl. I'm getting embarrassed by my own embarrassment!

"May I sit?"

I get my voice back and with uncharacteristic shyness turn my eyes away. "Of course, please do." I gesture towards the seat opposite me.

"Hey," I remember something, "You know my name!"

His face is smiling at me, and that curve of his lips is absolutely adorable. It's fascinating. I watch as he opens those sinfully full, pink lips to speak. "Yeah, they told me at the police station what your name is. Draco…" I shudder, "The star?"

I chew my bottom lip unconsciously. "My parents apparently thought it was cool to name their child after a star."

"I think it's a nice name, not too ordinary like Harry", he states calmly.

"Your name is Harry?"

"Oh, sorry, I didn't mean to be impolite. Harry Potter." And he extends his arm and I shook it. His name is now burnt into every single brain cell that is still left in me. I remember the time as a kid when I saw this one rockstar I fancied and asked for an autograph after the concert. I was so nervous and somehow the situation I'm in right now reminds me of the excitement I felt back then.

"Draco Malfoy, it's definitely nice to meet you." I ogle at him in a most likely rude manner, never felt this enchanted before.

I just can't get enough of that smile of his. A sudden urge to touch his lips strikes me, and it takes much willpower for me not to reach out and press my finger tips to Harry's lips. I bet he's one of those people whose boyish smile could melt every single mother-in-law's heart immediately.

"As I sat inside the police station I noticed you kicking litter bin on the pavement." _'Scheisse, he saw me fall flat on my arse.'_ "I was just about to leave and I, um, followed you as I saw you staggering into this coffee shop."

I lift my other well-shaped eyebrow. _'He followed me?'_

"So, what were you doing at the station at this hour? It's about half past ten already."

I groan internally. How am I get out of this without looking too stupid? 'Oh, yes. I was so obsessed with you that I just had to go back there to find out your name so that I could stalk you'. No, definitely not. I just say: "I forgot something."

"Oh."

He seems to sink deep in thought. No, don't start thinking! By thinking you might remember what kind of an idiot I am for acting like a coward that I am. "And you?"

"Sorry?"

"What were you there for?"

"I was just… I still had some business with the officer, nothing to do with you." His voice deepens towards the end and turning his eyes away he takes a sip of his coffee. Interesting. He hastily continues. "I just wanted to check if you were okay after that fall. Concussions are rather tricky, I got one myself once, and the unsteady way you walked looked rather worrying. Some concussions can be really severe and in your case, after what happened today, I thought that it would be wise to check on you."

"Thank you. For the coffee and… for the incident on the roof…" My voice fades away.

"You're welcome." Quick smile and he adds some sugar to his coffee.

Oh gods I am so ashamed…

"Listen", I turn my head towards him, still embarrassed and now fearing that he might leave. "Do you need to go to hospital for a check? Or maybe a lift? I'd like to make sure that you get home without fainting. I have a car over there and I'm in no hurry."

My heart skips one beat. It doesn't even matter that I feel rather crappy in my wet clothes, not now that I have Harry here with me. "If it honestly isn't a bother…"

"It's not." His wet hair is not even plastered to his skin like mine. His hair is rebellious and I love the wild image it gives him.

Suddenly I become very self-conscious and remember that it rained and that my outer appearance wouldn't be too fetching with smeared make-up. Even though he has already seen me like this, like a scruffy cat rescued from a gutter, it wouldn't do any harm to make myself a bit more presentable.

"I have to go to toilet, I'll be right back." He smiles and nods, taking another sip of his coffee.

I make my way hurriedly to the men's loo, digging out my eyeliner from my back pocket and leaning close to the mirror. As I lift the often sharpened and only one and half inches long black pen, I can't help but wonder what the hell I am doing.

I'm putting make-up on. I am soaked, dirty and I'm putting make-up on only to realise afterwards that it's smeared and looks even worse than it did in the first place, at the time when I attempted to make it look better.

A blonde man is looking back at me in the mirror, holding my pen, looking at me in confusion and clearly pondering what that other man is thinking. He looks cautious, he's not sure if it's appropriate to do anything now that someone is looking at him.

"Does he think I look like a cheap whore? Is he judging and watching my deeds and just waiting for me to start with my eye-liner, then smirk at me and gloat to himself, thinking _'I knew he wouldn't be able to be himself'_?" That's what that man in the mirror is thinking.

He is breathing, his heart is beating, and even though he looks like shit he's still alive and trying to turn into something that doesn't exist in nature. He's wearing make-up and blue nail-polish is flaking off of his fingernails. The man in the mirror is reaching for one moment's glow that'll fade away in a second, and without his cover-up that is slightly cracked now, he is nothing but the same tattered thing that he's trying to turn his back on at the moment.

Nonetheless, he is too arrogant to let anyone get to him, and since his mission requires him to have direct eye-contact with that stranger, he faces his only evaluator and draws that line that makes him change into whatever it is that he wants to be.

But in the universe where he tries to be invisible and eye candy both at the same time, there are other people similar to him and people that are nothing like him.

I am not in the mirror, I am here and doing exactly what that man in the mirror is doing. That man in the mirror is fake, but am I any more factual?

Through the mirror I, that very same blonde man that I hate to recognize as myself, see a red-haired, tall man come out of the toilet and come wash his hands. I draw another fine dark line on my eyelid with my expert skill, smearing it just slightly with my index to make it reminiscent of eye-shadow.

I can see the man wrinkling his freckled nose in disgust. "Revolting faggot," he hisses behind my back. If those blazing brown eyes possessed the power to kill with the loathing they hold within, I'd be ready to be placed six feet under.

I pucker my lips and make a kissing sound at him, adding some fake fluttering of my eyelashes.

"Sick!" Serving one more hateful look, the man storms out of the now silent room.

I can't help but smirk. I would not have done that anywhere outside the café, they would have beat me up. I snigger to myself. That face was priceless. I just hope that I will never meet him again.

I continue my task and in few seconds I'm done. Wiping off the smeared make-up under my eyes I smile at myself and run my fingers through my hair once again, never learning that it's not helping at all. I am not looking as good as I'd want to, but this will do. Some people might like this kind of shabby street boy look.

Feeling only slightly more confident I step out of the loo, meeting the smell of coffee again.

Letting my eyes find Harry again, I see him giving a brief hug to the very same red-haired guy that called me a faggot just a minute ago.

Contemplating the situation in my head, I end up finding myself on my way to Harry… and that other guy.

I hold my head up, wiping all wrinkles of doubt off my face. As I come closer to them, both of them turn their heads towards me.

Harry's ever so beaming self makes me feel warm once again.

The red-head's face twists into that familiar grimace. "What the fuck are you looking at?"

I glance at Harry, whose slightly alarmed look makes the other man shut up. "Ron, this is Draco Malfoy. Draco, this is my friend, Ron Weasley."

Confusion shines from the red-head's eyes. He looks at me, then at Harry, me, Harry and me again. It's like he's trying to make it clear to himself what the hell is going on.

And surprise, he voices his thoughts. "What is going on?? Harry, who is this bloke?"

He sighs and rolls his eyes. Heh heh, someone is being slow, I'm not the only one who sees it. "As I said, this is Draco, whom I met this afternoon. I just happened to bump into him here."

_'Lies, Harry. Don't you know that lies are bad?'_

He changes the topic. "So, Ron, what are you doing here?"

"But Harry, look at him!" He does and gives me a faint smile. I smile back. Ron seems a bit disturbed by this. "He's a fucking queer, a fairy queen!"

"Ron…" He tries, speaking in a warning tone.

"That sort of people just aren't normal in the head! He might jump you any moment when you're alone, Harry."

"Ron, stop it."

"I know what I'm talking about! Once when I was having a normal walk this one guy just comes up to me and grabs my arse! I had never seen him in my life, but I could clearly see that he was one of those people who don't care about anyone but themselves and take advantage of common people whenever they want without _any_ conscience."

"Ron!"

"They should just stay somewhere in their hides among their own kind of lot, or please us by disappearing altogether! I can't see how their lives would be worth a singing shit -"

_'Ouch.'_

"Shut up!"

"- 'cos nature didn't plan such things to exist in the first place when men and women were cr–"

"RON! Would you ONCE in your life just SHUT THE FUCK UP and stop being such a self-interested little SHITHEAD that you are and take your freckled, spotty face out of your homophobic arse??"

That had come out in such volume that those who miraculously hadn't noticed this exchange of ahem, views, before, turned to look at us, even the deaf woman with a Labrador in the corner.

Harry, even though the shorter one of the two, looks at his stunned friend with such a fierce look that it might make me piss in my pants had it been directed towards me. Or maybe not, but you get the idea. Those green eyes hold the brown ones' gaze, and I wonder if they're telepathic. It's like ice. Hard and cold but still able to be melted. Somehow even though it is scary to look at Harry like this, it feels safe and my chest swells with warmth. His fists are clenched and his eyes are shining, not from tears but the purity of his emotions.

Ron's expression can't really be described too well… It's a mixture of rage and fear, as if he doesn't know what to say but still wanting to say so much that the words are blocking his vocal cords. I doubt even he knows what he's thinking, it's pretty hard when you have an angered black-haired lion growling at you. Even though the caf's customers weren't too talkative in the first place, now they're totally quiet. The woman behind the counter in sending us stern glares. I try to smile at her apologetically and sighing she turn away.

Somehow Harry manages to calm himself down, and rubs his eyes tiredly. "Ron…"

The red-head swallows hard. "Harry, I honestly didn't mean to make you upset."

"I know. Just…" He lifts his face towards the roof, his fingertips now resting on his cheeks and chin. "Just go away. I don't think it's a good idea to try to discuss this with you at the moment."

He nods solemnly and with heavy steps saunters away, his steps making drab thuds against the wooden floor. I feel uncomfortable and I don't know what to do.

Did I cause this?

Harry sits back down and takes hold of his cup of coffee, but obviously not going to drink it. I'm still standing as he leans on his elbows against the table, covering his forehead with his hands. I realise that there are at least two people in this room who have no idea how to continue from this.

Finally he lifts his face and gives me a weak smile. I try to smile back at him, but it's harder than one would think.

I see him in a whole different light.

He's not my saviour in shining armour, he's not the one who's standing when everyone else has fallen and he's definitely not inhuman.

He is Harry and able to feel depression just as well as anyone else. I feel incredibly selfish all of a sudden, not having understood that other people might have problems and still they don't try to hide or escape them.

He was there when I didn't even know I craved for someone, and now I'm here, even though I don't know if that's what he needs or even wants.

I don't know him, he doesn't know me and this is one of the weirdest situations I can remember myself ever been in. We're total strangers to each other but somehow I still feel that I knew him the second I laid my eyes on him. I don't know if I believe in past lives and resurrection and karma, but situations like this make me wonder if I've met him, perhaps even loved him in my past life. In a moment like this when nothing seems to make sense that's the only thing that might seem even slightly logical.

I take few hesitant steps and soon I'm right next to him, searching for the eyes that slowly turn towards me. I wrap my arms around him, feeling the electricity around his body as I press my chest against his. For a second he tenses and does not know how to react.

Then he wraps his arms around me and returns the embrace, sighing against the side of my neck.

.

..

... TBC ...

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_A/N: Reviews aren't poisonous._


	5. Unintended

A/N: The inspiring song was Muse's _Unintended_. A lovely song, really. And this chapter is even longer than the latter one, I try not to make the future chapters this long, for the sake of my lovely beta's mental health. This chapter is dedicated to **Janche**, my dear friend, who's turning seventeen today!

There won't be updates for about three weeks at least, since my beta is going for a vacation.

And dahlings, reviews are nutritive.

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**__**

Chapter Five: Unintended

**_-_**

So here we are. I can't be too sure about myself, I could just as well be in that private haven of mine where the doors open to only one person, the one I'm comforting in my arms.

The embrace is slightly awkward in every way, but nonetheless it couldn't be more perfect. The position I try to maintain makes my hurt lower back ache even more, since I'm bent over and he's sitting, his arms are around my chest and mine are around his neck. It would be easier for me to just straddle him, but such a position would be way too intimate considering the fact that I only met him for the first time today. A small voice in the back of my mind whispers: _'It hasn't bothered you before. Such a distributing box you are._'

All I know about him is that his name is Harry Potter, he drinks his coffee with sugar, has a heterosexual idiot as a friend, owns a car, and is the most fabulous man I have ever met, in more ways than one.

I feel his breath against my neck, and it sends shivers down my spine. His firm jaw feels so good against my shoulder, his dark hair against the soft skin of my cheek. He inhales my scent, and I feel his nose nuzzle against the curve where my neck meets my shoulder. I bite my lip, the embrace is not the 'Hey, it's ok, mate' kind of hug to me anymore.

Ugh, the word 'mate' reminds me of a certain annoying (but physically quite lovely) guy I met a while ago. He's one of those heterosexual-looking football lovers who worship beer, talk about sex in that certain boastful way, and let their partners iron their clothes or else they let the clothes be wrinkly. They tell you to shut up when they're watching some violent sport on TV _always_ when you want to snuggle next to them, and even if they did let you bury yourself in their side you could just as well not be there at all. Their limp arm would just lay there across your shoulders or the backrest of the sofa, and would punch the air immediately if some person on TV, wearing clothes that are a crime against fashion, manages to score. The next night the sex would be violent or very intimate, depending on the match's result.

These thoughts make me frown, and I can't recall ever sharing a hug like this with Kyle. Harry's presence is much warmer, and the feeling of being safe makes my limbs feel heavy and sleepy. Harry lets his arms drop a little, and I pull away, giving his shoulder a gentle squeeze and before I take my seat again.

"Thanks", he says in a low voice.

My smile is the sort of apologetic half-smile that isn't meant to be cheering, but reassuring. Who would want to beam like nothing negative had happened when it's so obvious that this is not the case? That would be utter deception, I say. Fooling ourselves and others even though we _know_ that we are tricking no one. What is the point of such behaviour? Showing that we know our manners, that we are civilized and capable of that fake smile that the 'sophisticated' people smile at their tea parties? I know that I'd be able to act like the Prince of the Pretty People, I was taught all that classy shit when I was a kid. By looking at my outer appearance, though, people could easily think that my dad was some anonymous drunkard and my mother some stupid little blonde whore who couldn't refuse a paying dick when she saw one.

I might prefer a family like that rather than the real one I have. No, _had_.

In the caf's background some apparently young woman with a fragile, but beautiful and clear voice, is singing some song I haven't heard before, and for a minute I can't help but listen to her and welcome the peacefulness that her voice pours upon me. Closing my eyes I let the negative thoughts fly away and I concentrate on this moment, just being here in the coffee shop, opposite the man who pulled me out of my former reality as I stood on the edge, about to discover another dimension of existence. Today I found out that there are other people in my dimension, people that can enter and influence it without me noticing anything at first, and suddenly I find myself in a totally different place, in a place where I could go without shedding a single drop of blood on asphalt. As Harry touched me for the first time today on that roof, I found a reality that seems to be a much better option than the painful one I _thought_ would be the correct one.

A porcelain dish shatters somewhere in the café, and I open my eyes in a second. I see him looking at me directly in the eye, a weird expression on his face.

"You do that a lot", he says a matter of factly.

"Sorry, I just have a lot on my mind."

"I bet. And I'm sorry, too, for what Ron said. He's not usually that hostile, he's a nice bloke once you get to know him."

"I guess I have to believe you. My first confrontation with him might just have been a bad one. Maybe he was just having a bad hair day." _'I bet he was, all that red mess was in serious need of a haircut.'_ "He doesn't seem to be the most open-minded person, though. 'Fairy queen'…" I snort.

The corner of his mouth twitches upwards a little. "Well, he's Ron. He has a temper and when he thinks he's right about something, he'll try to make others see things his way, too."

"I've gotten used to that kind of attitude. Not too many people are pro-gay and think it's okay when a guy wears make-up."

"Then why do you?"

"I don't know. I just like it. I've lived up to expectations my whole life and this is what I am and want to do. I see nothing wrong with it." I shrug and scratch my collarbone.

"A rebel, are you not?" he smirks as he looks at me, his eyes glinting.

I roll my eyes, smiling. "I guess so. Rebellious against the society's ideals."

"Just the society's?"

I consider this for a while. "No."

He nods. "Do you want another cup of coffee? It seems like the rain is not going to stop for a while."

"No thank you. I've had enough caffeine for the evening. If I drink any more I'm not going to get any sleep before morning." _'Not that I would have slept at all anyways. Too busy thinking of you.'_

"Maybe something else that'll warm you up? You're shivering", he says, frowning.

I hadn't noticed that before, but he's right. Even though we've sat here inside for quite a while my sleeveless is still wet and my trousers must have dampened the seat. He takes his brown mocha jacket from the armrest and wraps it around my shoulders. It's warm and smells of Harry. Just Harry and slightly of the cologne he uses. The soft beige wool inside the jacket feels nice against my skin and the vibrations my senses send is enough to make me feel warm. Maybe more from inside, but gradually the warmth spreads to my numb limbs, too. Jesus, I've met a gentleman!

"You're very sweet, but no thank you, I'm fine as it is." But that's a lie. I want more. Much more.

"Okay. But just say if you want something, I'm not exactly broke and about to get kicked out of my apartment."

We sit there for quite a while, talking about ourselves, sharing opinions on all kinds of light topics, and discussing life in general. I can't help but think of this situation as a date… After finishing the third cup of coffee that he somehow persuaded me to accept, I accidentally glance at the mahogany grandfather clock that stands next to the door, and as I look around me, I notice that only three other customers apart from us are still in the café. The Italian woman is cleaning the tables and informing the other group that it's time to close the coffee shop. The grandfather clock's hands point at midnight and it gives a dull bong as a sign.

I turn to Harry, who apparently has noticed the time, too.

"So… I guess it's time to leave?" He suggests and stands up. Following his example, I rise and notice this ridiculous wet spot on my arse that didn't dry as I sat on that chair for… Oh, I don't know, but pretty near two hours, anyways.

It's raining even more than it was when I came here, and the pedestrian street is vacant, apart from one lady who hurries somewhere under her umbrella. The parking area in front of the supermarket next to the unlit park is empty of all vehicles, and the shops' windows are almost all dark and unwelcoming at this hour. The apartments above the shops seem dead and quiet from outside, since only a few of them hold any kind of faint glow behind the closed curtains.

I can see the silhouette of a person looking down at the street from the fourth floor, perhaps right at us. He (I believe it's a male) doesn't move, just sits there facing the street. It's oddly creepy, to know that someone is looking at you, and can see you very clearly under the light of the street lamps, but you can't see the spectator's features at all. The street lamp under which I stand with Harry flickers slightly and I pull the coat tighter around me, finding an old receipt in the pocket (I can't help being curious) and accidentally smearing the ink, as a droplet of water from the tip of my nose hits the thin piece of paper. I cast one more glance at the person in the window and see him gone.

"Come on, I'm getting soaked", Harry tugs at the coat I have on my shoulders, and as I look at him I have to smile at the sight. There are trickles running down his cheeks and forehead, dripping from his locks and chin.

"Okay." I shake my head, sending droplets flying around, and Harry grumbles in mock irritation.

We hurry along the street, turning around the corner where his metallic blue car is parked, standing there all alone in the rain. Harry digs into his pockets to find the keys and frowns.

"Looking for these?" I hang a bundle of keys on my index finger and throw it to Harry, who smiles and opens the doors with a 'beep' as he pushes a button on the key.

Soon enough I collapse onto the seat next to driver's, wrenching the door shut and sighing in contentment. I hear the hard rain hit the roof and the windows, and it somehow feels extremely nice, soothing. Like when you're a kid and build those little tents in your living room. You are safe, hiding, and you imagine that no one can see you. You have something your own, your own place, and even though the car's not mine I feel like this is my own hollow that isn't dependant on anything that goes on outside.

We attach the seatbelts and Harry starts the car. The soft purr and the smell of a new car indicate that Harry Potter is not an indigent idler. I see some formal-looking papers peeking from the locker in front of me and many other places where papers can possibly be stuffed, and the backseat is basically covered with all kinds of objects. Bundles of paper, pens, paper fasteners, a black briefcase, paper and plastic bags, an empty crisp bag, a loose dark green tie and a white button-up shirt, scissors, an unopened bottle of wine, a few books, a black case that looks like one of those you keep your laptop in, and a few packages wrapped in brown paper.

"Okay, so where do you live?"

I give him my address, but he doesn't know where the place is, so I have to give him directions. I, of course, only mention the slightly longer way. Wouldn't want to get stuck in the busiest crossings, would we?

Otherwise we don't talk too much, I just gaze in front of me and see different coloured lights whip past me. Harry concentrates on driving and occasionally hums along to the song he plays on CD.

The journey's not long and all too soon he parks his car at the block where I live. He grabs his umbrella from under his seat and offers to walk me to my doorstep.

To my doorstep.

Oh, but I don't mind, not at all, he holds the umbrella above us as we walk across the parking area. At the door he puts the thing away and we step into the hall where the elevator and the list of the building's inhabitants are.

The hall is dark as I look at Harry, who's standing in front of the pale white light that comes from outside. The other half of his face is covered with deep shadows, angular and sharp, but the other half is illuminated in an ethereal sort of way. As he stands there in his black jeans and a well-fitting, blood red turtleneck he casts a long shadow over me, involuntarily stopping the time's running as I hold my breath at the sight.

It's beautiful, he looks like an unpredictable angel from black heaven, an angel that might just as well be the devil in disguise.

I must have gaped like a fish, since soon his face twists into a smile that would probably have looked heart-melting in good lighting, but now he looks scary, to say the least. The way his perfect white teeth contrast with the shadows on his face, and the way his smile creates new angles is frightening, and gives him the impression of a vampire on the prowl. Even though I'm slightly _terrified_, I'm also fascinated. There's something extremely sexual in his appearance, looking back at me like I was something he had been looking for and had found.

Swallowing I push the glowing orange button on the wall and the hall is illuminated in an instant. The Harry I know is there again, stepping past me and opening the door of the elevator for me.

I don't know why, but I have this awful feeling about something… Like something bad is going to happen within minutes and as I approach my apartment the moment draws nearer. I feel my heartbeat accelerating in my chest. It's like a clock and as the second hand ticks a lump in my throat rises and slight sweat breaks over my upper lip and in my eyebrows.

The elevator stops with a jerk and I push the door open. I walk to my door and turn to Harry. We both feel awkward and it shows. I cough and quickly glance at my feet, then back at him.

"Thanks for the coffee, it was really nice talking to someone", I say and hand him the coat.

He takes it and holds it in his arms a bit like a waiter. "You're welcome, I enjoyed it, too. Even though there was that unfortunate incident with Ron, but still." He grimaces, but nonetheless grins lopsidedly.

"Yeah…" I'm running out of words. "Maybe he's just not used to people being different." Somehow I feel like I'm talking non-sense and making myself look like a total moron. I cough again to distract myself.

"Maybe… Oh, but I won't keep you any longer, it's twenty to one already and I bet you want to get some sleep. Hey, if you feel like talking sometime, I dunno, just call me. Here's my card."

I take it. "Okay. Once again, thank you for everything." I open my door. "Good night."

"Good night."

Smiling at him once more I close the door behind me and kick my shoes off.

This evening was supposed to be the one that turns my situation upside-down, and it did, but differently than I originally thought.

Suddenly someone slams me against the door and I gasp in surprise.

"Where were you?" It's Kyle, his face inches away from mine. He's towering over me and clutching my shirt tightly in his fist.

"Outside", I answer calmly, my palms flat against the door and fingers spread apart.

"You think I'm stupid? Of course you were outside! With whom?"

I feel like I'm cornered, like a wild animal at which someone is pointing a gun. Since I hesitate with my answer for few seconds too long Kyle clutches my shirt even more tightly and pushes me against the door again.

"WITH WHOM?"

"Some person I met today." I see his eyes widening in fury and I go on hastily. "It was no one special, we just talked for a while and then I came home."

It seems like he's buying my explanation, a bit reluctantly, though, and the corners of his mouth twist into a smile, and it looks almost gentle. Stepping nearer he gives my forehead a kiss, and puts his arms around my waist, then starts kissing my neck. I relax somewhat, but then I feel him tensing.

"What is this?" He sniffs my neck. "It's some cologne. Men's cologne." He steps away from me, observing my features. I can hear the silence echoing in the apartment. "And it's not yours."

Before I know what happened, I feel a fist connect with my jaw. "You fucking slut!" He shouts and punches me in my stomach. I shriek at the contact, trying to cover the hurt area. "You whoring little shit! Can't let you go anywhere, can I? With you swinging your arse at any passing male!"

He kicks my shin and aims another good blow in my stomach, making me double over. I taste blood in my mouth and cough uncontrollably.

I try to calm him down, touching his arm hesitantly. "Kyle –"

"You –"

He pulls my hair and I claw at his hands.

"- worthless –"

Kyle yanks my head backwards, forcing me to drop to my knees in front of him and expose my throat. My pathetic attempts to escape aren't working.

"- cock sucking –"

He hits me across the face, and I feel my teeth piercing the tissue of my inner lips. Something warm and sticky runs down my chin. I collapse onto the floor, but he lifts me back up by the neck of my shirt.

"- whimpering –"

He kicks my knee and I scream at the piercing pain. He takes hold of my bloodied hair and makes me look at him in the eye. I don't see much anymore and my sense of reality is hovering somewhere above my head.

"- piece of –"

But I never hear what I am, for he slams my head against the door frame and graciously I lose my consciousness, blackness taking over my vision and limply I crumble to the floor.

I also don't hear the terrified gasp nor the desperate apologizes of Kyle's as he notices what he's done. I don't feel how he craddles me against his chest, runs his fingers through my hair and carries me to my bed, laying me down gently.

The apologizes, the kisses, the promises, the touches, the moans and grunts… They all go past me as I lay on the bed, oblivious to what Kyle is doing to me.

* * *

I'm flying above the green fields of Scotland, where unicorns gallop in herds, their silvery manes glittering under the bright sunlight. I can hear their horse-like neighs as they run across the fields, just above the flowers as not to bend and hurt them with their hooves. The field, covered with flowers of all sorts, is waving in the wind, whispering in a way that almost sounds like singing.

_ Shaking my head clear of those thoughts I lift my gaze to look around me. I can see two windmills on a hill a bit further away, going around and around slowly, in no hurry to complete their eternal task of just going around and around, around and around…_

_I am floating in the air now, just above a narrow river with crystal clear water, and I can see that instead of normal small stones the bottom of the river is covered with round gemstones. Emeralds and diamonds, amethysts and sapphires, opals and rubies, and white and black pearls on a bed of golden sand. The water is rippling softly, and I land at the shore to drink the water, I'm thirsty. My eyes are shining and I see my reflection on the surface of the water. My face isn't dirty, I'm not wearing make-up and my clean hair is ruffled slightly. I look healthy, my skin is cream coloured and radiating. As I glance at the blue sky I only see a few clouds somewhere far away, disappearing behind the horizon._

_I decide to go sit on a rainbow and bouncing from the ground I spring onto it, swaying my legs over the edge and letting my palms touch the upper-most, red line on which I sit. One end of the rainbow is on one side of the river, and the other is on the opposite side, like one big, colourful bridge. _

_A few swallows fly past me, chasing flies or whatever, and suddenly a butterfly lands on the tip of my nose and I have to look cross-eyed to see it. I don't really like bugs, but I don't mind this one, since it's so pretty, opening and closing its wings and flashing the beautiful colours in front of my eyes. I notice my bed floating under my rainbow and I hop onto it, landing softly, and instantly falling asleep among the soft pillows. _

_I let my dream land lull me to sleep, a warm summer zephyr soothing all wrinkles of worry from my face. Everything outside my inner world can be considered irrelevant, for all I feel is soft and smooth and milky._

_Then I hear a loud bang, like a lightning that splits the sky and turns it black, something thick and glue-like oozing from the cracks, and as the substance falls to the ground it corrodes the flowers and lets them decay in the brown-black ground.. The earth swallows the windmills, the river's water, stones flow into the crack in the ground, and the rainbow's colours turn black, grey and white. The bed falls, and I crash heavily to the ground, pain's concept entering my sanctuary._

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I wake up in my bed, but it's not full of light pastel coloured pillows anymore. There's blood on the sheets.

All over them.

.

..

… TBC …

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A/N: Answers to reviews…

**carrot:** I don't really have anything against Ron, but the image of a homophobic suits my purposes quite well. He's not a bad person, just...just Ron.

**sylver:** Draco's usually described as a shallow person, i honestly think that he isn't such, or at least hope so.

**sak:** I wasn't quite sure if the embrace was a good ending, i don't really like overly-mushy scenes or stories. But damn, it seems like i've created a slightly cough soppy Draco here... Oh well, things can change ;)

**dangerous-beans:** Thank you. I dunno about the level of the future chapters, but it seems like that as the story continues, i come up with new and better ideas all the time (i don't have a too well-planned plot here, just scenes and ideas). I had written the fourth chapter totally differently at first, and since i didn't like the first version i had to write a new one. I dislike clichés in stories, and even though i'm quite sure i can't prevent some from appearing in this fic i nevertheless try to write something that isn't too common.

**GaBoO:** English isn't my first language, either, but I still prefer writing in English. i dunno why, but it might be because i don't really read anything in my mother tongue (Finnish) anymore because of the international school I'm attending. I've studied Spanish for one course, and yes, it's a beautiful language and didn't seem too difficult, either. Finnish is nearly impossible.

**Brucie Anceling:** hehe, thanks. I didn't exactly plan Draco to be like Brian, but i see rather many similarities between them now that i think about it...

**Ravencrow:** I am one of those authors who write stories and then might just drop them all of a sudden. but don't worry, i'm not gonna lose interest in this one. It might be my best fic since Draco Darling's MerryGoRound.

**Shadow Weaver and Ikira: **I dunno if you'll 'see inside Harry's head' in this story the same way as Draco's, i'd like to keep Harry a bit of a mystery... Draco doesn't see inside his head, so neither can I. And don't worry, Ron's not gonna end up being the ultimate bad guy, there are other characters to do that job.

I wanna also thank **Harryschic23, Serenity Slytherin, Kimmy15, Suraka-chan, ura,** **Mary, DanishGirl **and** Dragenphly **for reviewing. I'm too sluggish to answer to all reviews, so from now on I'll just answer to those that _ask_ something or have something new to say about the fic. But i love all your reviews, they brigten my day and give me much much much motivation to write! it's nice to know that the stuff i write isn't total crap :)


	6. Sick Cycle Carousel

_A/N: Here it is, the chapter six. First of all I want to thank_ **Michael Serpent**_, the invincible Over Lord of Harry/Draco slash fanfiction, for beta reading this and the seventh chapter for me, since Sarya happens to be away for a while. Also janche helped a great deal with the typos, thanks.The song's Lifehouse's 'Sick Cycle Carousel'._

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_Chapter Six: Sick Cycle Carousel_

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The bed is spinning and swinging at the same time, and my eyes flutter as I try to fight the dizziness away. I feel like my head was lolling from side to side as I swing back and forth, back and forth, back and forth. There is no giddy music to accompany the swinging motion, but I could easily imagine a mocking orchestra of mistuned violins playing in the background. The rising sun is casting its warm orange rays through the bedroom window, throwing long shadows across the room and making the floating dust particles in the air shimmer softly as the light hits them. The narrow shadow of a standard lamp splits my torso from my right hip to my left shoulder as I bath in the sunrise, limp and naked on the messed sheets. I stare at the ceiling and turn my face towards the window, seeing how the brightness goes through my eyelids and feeling the faint warmth on my skin.

I prefer sunrises. Sunsets are nice, too, but there's that certain something in sunrises. Too often poets and authors write about sunsets, how romantic they are and so forth. The sun's red, dying glow sliding behind the horizon, lovers sitting side to side on a rock next to the sea, holding hands and whispering sweet things in the other's ear. You see the sun going away, you already have seen what it did today, and then you can say for sure "now it is gone". You had been watching its progress the whole day, seeing how it got nearer and nearer to its end, so there's no question about the fact that the sun is truly gone.

But when the sun rises, you have no idea what it brings along, what future will be like. It's new, it's unpredictable and you just happen to be there when it begins its daily parade across the sky. You may have some kind of idea when the sun will rise the next morning, but you can't predict exactly which second you'll see the shockingly bright first rays. Sunrise is first gone and then just suddenly there, but with sunset you can follow it with your gaze, see it kiss the horizon tentatively and then it falls.

It's like breathing. With sundown you exhale with relief, letting the old air come out and you prepare for the up-coming night. But then again with dawn you inhale new fresh air that has been blessed with the brand new light after the darkness. Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale… A forever-continuing motion that will go on until to a certain point. When a person dies, the last deed might be whether breathing in sharply, as if the end was a shock, or letting the air out completely, waving the white flag at the whole system.

But not too often one realises, that a nightfall is someone else's morning, and that sometimes when you greet the sun for the first time that day, another person is just saying goodbyes to it somewhere very far away.

Are sunrises for those who are looking for something new, adventures, and for those who love to dream of something better? Or for the hopeless ever-children who want to walk twenty feet away from their parents because it's embarrassing to follow the elders' path?

Are sunsets for traditional people who are wise and sure of what they do and what will happen next, and who in most probability are going to be right about their calculations? Can they not do something spontaneous, take risks and therefore suddenly become filthy rich or incredibly poor?

I want to make the right decisions, I want a sunset, but on the other hand I am a clear sunrise, a dreamer with my head in the non-see-through clouds. Between dusk and dawn there only are day and night, both so very different from each other but nonetheless so alike. During day you see, during night you don't, that's the popular belief. But some animals live at night, and hide for the day, and other animals sleep at night and wake up in the crack of dawn. Is my sunrise nearer to the night or the day? The moment just before the light breaks out, or the moment right after when the first rays cast?

Gathering my courage I open my eyes warily, and parting my cracked and dry lips I inhale sharply. My eyes widen in a second and hurriedly I spring up, feeling how my skin was attached to the sheets due to the dried blood, and as fast as I can, I stagger to the bathroom, clutching the sides of the toilet seat and throwing up violently. It feels like someone was grasping me from the middle, from my stomach and urging me to empty it against my will, even though there's nothing to throw up. I collapse against the wall opposite to the toilet seat, sliding down to the floor and taking deep breaths as I feel a headache forming behind my eyes and my temples. I squeeze my eyes shut, leaning backwards until my head hits the cold wall and I see small dancing stars, making me feel even more ailing.

I feel like crying. I have never felt this bad and I don't know what to do. I am trapped in my hopelessness, facing my opponent in a duel for one. But I am no fighter like that**;** I can't even beat myself although I know my weaknesses. I want to throw the ball to someone else, and that someone else would take care of everything, and I could just sit back and watch how things are corrected by someone else.

I don't want to sort out anything. I just want to stop the hands of my clock from moving. And when everyone else's watches are still ticking on, things changing in time and making it better and when it's ok again I'd restart my clock and step into the world of the living once again, head held high as if I had never left at all.

Wincing**,** I stand up, for the pain is too much and I reach for the medicine locker. I drown three painkillers with a glass of water, and lift my gaze to look at my reflection. My nose has bled at some point, and I have a black eye. There are smaller cratches on my face, and my lip is split, stinging nastily. I see four red lines going across my collarbore that must be due to nails. My hair is in knots, blonde strands mangled with dried blood and sticking out in horrid angles. I can feel a large bruise where my head hit the door frame, probably causing me to black out because of a hopefully merely mild concussion. My wrist is swollen and there are purple bruises on it, as well as on many other places of my body. As I walk I can feel what else Kyle did to me while I was unconscious, that sex-crazed bastard.

The kitchen is excruciatingly bright, the whites and light greens are blinding. On the wooden table there's a piece of paper. Narrowing my eyes I pick it up, holding it between my index and thumb, as if it was something filthy.

_' Draco,_

I didn't mean to do what I did yesterday, seriously. I just somehow lost the control and I know I did wrong against you. You didn't deserve it, but you must understand that I was hurt. You hurt me Draco, you did, and deeply. I don't know if that's what you intended to do, but I certainly didn't plan to beat you up the way I did…I have never felt such guilt as I do now, and I beg you to forgive me. I'm off to work the time when you read this, and after that I think we should talk. I am so sorry.

_Yours,_

Kyle' 

I stand at the kitchen table where Kyle had left the message, and I rip the letter with the passion I would use to rip Kyle's head off if I could.

"Yes, let Draco pick up the pieces of himself, let him deal with the pain all alone**,"** I sob and grip at the edge of the table in fury.

Not that I would have wanted Kyle to be here when I woke up, no way. It was more than enough to wake up next to him in the middle of the night, to feel how he was curled around my body in the possessive way, claiming me like a piece of mindless meat.

_'Mine! You are mine and you can't go until I let you! You can have your opinions, but mine weigh more.'_

Kyle hasn't said so, but he has written those words on my skin with blood and kisses.

I hurry to take a shower to get rid of the grime, twisting the water to be so hot that it leaves my skin red and almost burnt. The blood flakes off of my skin, dried semen and sweat go down the drain as I rub the pear-smelling soap against my skin. I see the filth go away, but nonetheless it leaves my skin tainted and marked behind. It hasn't gone away, it's still there even when it seems like it's not. Not wanting but having no choice in the matter I remember last night so lively, as if he was doing it all over again…

I pour some shampoo onto my palm and run my fingers through my hair, my shaking fingertips rubbing furiously at my scalp and staring at the white wall in front of me like it was my enemy.

_His scent up my nostrils and burning all the way to my lungs, preventing them from taking in any oxygen._

_And I choke internally._

The skin of my scalp is tender already, and I let the pouring water wash the white bubbly substance away, sliding down my body.

_Warmth emanating to my body from his, to my aching muscles that cramp and stop working altogether._

_I'm paralyzed._

Breathing hitching, I take some conditioner and repeat what I did with the shampoo, quickening my actions to get out of the shower as soon as possible, the shower stall is so small and I feel trapped again.

_Breath against my neck, sharpening my senses and the overwhelming disgust reaction in my brains is too much._

_I lose consciousness._

I turn off the water, hurry out of the shower, grab a towel and tie it around my waist.

_Skin against mine… The dirt that is him digs into my pores and veins, going all the way to my heart like a disease._

_My heart stops beating._

I slump down onto the toilet seat again, taking in a shuddering breath.

_I'm dead._

I had been dying for so long and now I am dead. It's all because of Kyle, all because I wasn't careful enough around him. He thought I was his**;** that he was meant to be more important to me than anything else I have, more important than my well-being and my struggles against him. He was more important than I was.

Sick. So utterly sick. It's like thousands of slimy worms were there, on my dead and unmoving skin, contaminating me both from outside and inside as they crawl into me through all possible holes of my body. Squirming there, filling me with their dirt and disgusting slithering movement. I could hear them twisting inside my ears, feel how they eat my stomach from the inside and run through my circulation system.

And I could feel all that just by looking at him.

It's so deceitful, the way he looks so innocent in his sleep, sickeningly content. I can't bear looking at him for long, I want to run and never see that monster again. I don't want to hide, not really, but I want to run until I bump into something, someone, Harry, who prevents me from running any further away and guides me to follow another path. Who knows, the path I had been following might have been a circle, and in the end of my path there might have been Kyle waiting for me, all over again.

I wash my face in the sink and put something with healing properties on the bruises. Knowing that the bedroom is in a serious need to be cleaned of Kyle's body fluids mixed with mine, I take a laundry basket with me as I step into the room of physical and emotional pain once again, this time to swipe the fingerprints off of a gun with which I was shot.

The sheets are tainted red, I bled to Kyle pretty generously last night. I bet he didn't use any lube, either, and my nose-bleed must have been quite big considering the amount of blood on my face and the pillow. I throw the bed clothes into the basket, and shutting the door behind me I carry it back to the bathroom. I don't feel like starting on the laundry right in the morning… Heck, I need coffee!

"Coffee, coffee, where are you my coffee…" I mutter to myself as I rummage through the kitchen and finally find what I'm looking for in a drawer where _I_ would never put a coffee package. Kyle must have messed the order of the stuff once again. Even though he doesn't exactly live here he seems to think that he has the right to put my stuff into any sort of order, or should I say to lack for such. Why won't he just mess up his own place?

But as sure as the fact that I'm standing here in the outfit the non-existent good God gave me, Kyle will never step into this apartment again.

I pick up the morning's paper from the carpet in front of the door, and sit in front of the kitchen table to read it while the coffee machine makes gurgling noises.

Deciding to change the locks before Kyle comes back (he has the key, I was kind of forced to give it to him when he gave me the key to his apartment) I glance through the headlines, not really reading and understanding what the words stand for, but I guess there has been some new incident in Iraq and Helena's Hair&Style gives outstanding reductions to people who were born before the year 1962.

I made the coffee too mild, damn it. I've never been good with making coffee, I never know how much I should add the coffee itself and how much water.

I call the locksmith and he'll be coming to change the locks in an hour, well before my shift at the Burger King, which starts at twelve. I'm so drained, I don't have the energy to go to work today at all… But I don't want to wrap myself in my own self-pity here at my place nor keep thinking about what happened and cry into my sofa pillows, I just want to get distracted by something other than work, something even remotely enjoyable. Work is a good method if one wants to throw worries aside for a while, but I've never been one to lose myself that way. I don't enjoy my work**;** I go there just for the money.

The doorbell rings. What's wrong with me? Where did I lose that one hour? Quickly I run to my wardrobe and grab a pair of boxers, a pair of socks, jeans, and a grey shirt.

"Just a minute!" I yell as the locksmith rings the bell for the second time. Scrambling I hit my toe in the doorframe and cuss, hopping towards the door with one foot. But as I rest my hand on the door handle and the other on the lock, I get second thoughts…

"Who is it?" I ask through the door. If it's Kyle who's forgotten the keys I'm going to scream in my mind. And then at him.

"Raphael Jones, I trust you needed a locksmith today?"

I smile in relief, and open the door, letting the elder man with mustache in. The man knows his stuff and the work is done in no time.

I know I'm not supposed to go to work for another two hours, but I can't stay home, either. I need to walk and think, let the feelings dissolve as I breathe the thoughts out into the cool air outside. I grab my coat, lock the door behind me and decide to use the stairs instead of taking an elevator. In the hall I recall how Harry and I stood here just yesterday. No, today. Anyways, I think of it as 'yesterday'. I want to see him again, definitely. Kyle can't forbid me, I'm not his, never was. I can't be owned by someone who doesn't care about me, he didn't even bother to wake me up to see if I was okay, which I was not. I might have died in my sleep, right after he had gone. Jesus, he's such an idiot!

I get angrier and angrier the more I think about him, my steps could very well quake the earth with the emotion I kick into it. Kyle is just like my parents, at least likemy father. If he had been the one to find me this morning, he would have wrinkled his nose in disgust, just like that Weasley at the coffee shop, and tell me how filthy I looked, _ordered_ me to take a shower and get over it.

I find myself in a park, and I sit on a bench, watching as people go past me with their dogs, kids and happy little lives. I just sit there, not letting myself to think of the situation too deeply and when it's time, I head for the nearest underground station.

The day at work comes and goes like always. Stupid teenage girls, playing with their hair in a supposed-to-be-seductive way, and trying to get their orders for cheaper or my phone number. Sometimes I step into the role of an overly gay person, with all those hand gestures people do when they try to act gay, and the girls usually give up straight away or get insulted if they don't believe me. One time I got into a really funny situation. These two girls had a guy with them and I used my 'sorry, I'm gay and thus not interested' –method, and then the _guy_ asked for my number. The girls stared at their friend in shock and immediately dragged him to side, sitting him in front of them and starting to pester to poor guy about his sexuality. That was just way too funny, the guy seemed really confused and uncomfortable as his friends' words made him blush like a tomato. That boy was definitely still trying to find himself, and without thinking he just came out of the closet in front of his friends. The expression on the guy's face was worth seeing, otherwise the situation wasn't comical or something to laugh at.

I smell of grease and my skin feels oily, eugh. I head for the supermarket to buy some milk and cauliflower, plus a package of Persil. Carrying the stuff in a plastic bag I stroll along the street, deciding that not taking the tube and walking to my place won't kill me. Nonetheless, after half an hour I get tired of walking and give up. The tube is full, and I feel like a sardine in a tin, other people pressed against me, pushing out of their way and swaying as the underground stops, lets people out and continues again. After hearing the evergreen warning 'mind the gap' for something like thirty times I get off and soon I find myself in front of the familiar seven-story building.

But what I find in front of my apartment door is not something I expected. Harry and Kyle are glaring at each other in a way that does not look too friendly, face to face.

.

..

… TBC …

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_A/N: Thanks to all reviewers, you are my darling motivation! But it seems like the more I write the less I get reviews o.O. I was almost (but not quite) planning on dropping this story already, but for some reason decided to continue it, anyways. I love writing this, there are my own personal thoughs and opinions in this fic, too, but motivation tends to lack sometimes. I have the next, a bit shorter chapter already beta read, but I am not going to put it here before I've had a standard amount of reviews. And I am in no hurry, I can wait as long as it takes _:)__

**GaBoO:** Grazias! In the chapter number eight (yes, I have pretty much written that already) you're gonna hear slightly more about Draco's relations to Kyle. I'm from southern Finland and the reason why I am able to write this much in English is that the study language in the school I attend is English.

**sak:** As I told GaBoO, you'll hear about Draco&Kyle's relationship in the chapter after the next one. And waking up in blood… Yes, it can be pretty traumatic indeed.

**carrot:** Hehe, you were waiting for Harry to kick the door down and rescue Draco? Oh well, he would have been the knight in shining armour, but this is not exactly a fairy tale. And no, both Kyle and Draco are still alive and kicking, no one's been shot.

**Ravencrow:** Thank you for the tip, but I am not going to 'study' how to write about violence and abusive relationships. I think the scene I've written here is just fine (even though it certainly isn't, but you know what I mean), and I find it rather easy to write about horrible topics, I guess I have this thing about stuff that I actually _dislike_.

_Also thanks to:_ **janche**, **DanishGirl**, **ura**, **xXBleeding MascaraXx**, **Silvestra** and **Maluenda**.

-Devilita.


	7. Bad Day

A/N: Thank you **Sarya** for betareading again! The song's _Something Corporate's_ 'Bad Day'.

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_Chapter Seven: Bad Day_

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At first I'm frozen to the spot, holding my breath as not to let them see me, but in a few seconds I step back behind the corner in the corridor, out of view. Cautiously I observe Harry and Kyle's interaction, a strange feeling of worried anticipation forming a lump in my throat.

I had heard some voices echoing on the stairs and in the hall as I stepped inside the building, but immediately dismissed them, since I didn't recognise the voices or understand what was said. I merely presumed that the voices belonged to my neighbours, who have a tendency to sort out their arguments in the corridor and letting all other inhabitants of the building hear it.

"- think you are, trying to woo my Draco?"

That was Kyle. His fists are clenched at his sides, and apparently he's trying to intimidate Harry by towering over him, showing just how tall and almighty he is. His eyes are narrowed to slits, his jaw clenched, and he's breathing heavily through his nose.

Harry, on the other hand, seems perfectly relaxed, even though I can't see his face from my hiding place. He's put his hands in his pockets, resting his weight on the other leg as if he was waiting for the correct bus on Sunday, when he's in no hurry to go anywhere.

I can hear the smirk in his voice. "Well, he didn't mention anything about belonging to someone. And who said I was trying to woo him in the first place?" I bet he lifted his eyebrows at Kyle in amused curiosity.

Kyle's gritting his teeth, tensing even more, and I can see how his arm muscles tense under his tight long-sleeved shirt. "I smelled your cologne all over him yesterday. Don't fucking try and say that you're not shagging like two horny rabbits right beh-"

"Slow down!" Harry chuckles, raising his hands up in front of him defensively. I hope Harry's not pissing Kyle off intentionally, because that's exactly what he's doing by not taking him seriously. But in some twisted way I'm also enjoying this, enjoying the way Kyle's face flushes in anger towards that sniggering stranger.

"My cologne! he laughs. "I did let him borrow my coat last night, since he was soaked and shivering with cold."

Kyle's expression goes through a variation of awes, grimaces and furies, but he manages to stutter: "You- You're lying! I know you are, so don't try and outsmart me, because I'm not buying it. Draco tried to deny your actions, too, but I could hear the guilt in his voice, see it in his eyes and body language."

Suddenly the amused expression on Harry's face vanishes in a second. For the first time I see him dead-serious towards Kyle, and I'm reminded of the time when he exploded at Ron. "Where is he?"

Kyle's taken aback by Harry's quick change in character. "How would I know? I just came!"

"Well you just said you're his boyfriend. Aren't you supposed to have some kind of idea what your sweetheart does during day?"

"I- Yes! But I'm not his guardian or anything! I don't watch his every move Kyle spits.

'_Bullshit,'_ I want to yell. My cheeks develop a pink tint as my resentment flashes.

"So how come you can't get inside with your key and look if he's home?"

"I. Don't. Know," he mutters, scowling heavily. "Anyways, it's none of _your_ business. _Draco_'s none of your business. So piss off."

"So you have no idea where he is? Work, perhaps?"

"He's supposed to be home any minute now. I'm going to wait 'til he does. Or he might be taking a shower at the moment, and that's why he doesn't hear me." Kyle turns to face the door. "Draco! Are you in there?"

Harry sighs and leans against the wall, digging out a cigarette. All of a sudden he glances up in my direction, and our eyes meet. He frowns, holding the lighter in mid-air, a question in his eyes, but he keeps silent. Uncertainly he glances at Kyle again, and then back at me. My gaze shifts from Harry to Kyle and back to Harry nervously, and I try to signal Harry not to say anything.

"You're not allowed to smoke in the corridor."

Luckily I was quick enough to spring back behind the corner, and Kyle didn't see me as he turned to Harry.

"Draco!" He continues banging my door, waiting for a response.

Harry straightens up and brushes some non-existent dust off his shirt. "Oh well, since he doesn't seem to be willing to open the door to you or isn't here yet, I'll just leave and come back some other time."

"You better not come back if you know what's good for you..." he lets the threat hang in the air, but Harry merely snorts.

"I know what's good for me, thank you very much." He extends his arm. "It's been a pleasure, mister...?"

Kyle takes a step towards Harry. "Fuck. Off."

Harry looks hurt. "My, no need to be so rude. I will leave, hopefully we'll meet again. Ta ta!" With an elegant swirl he waltzes away, leaving Kyle staring after him and gripping the key in his sweaty hand.

I'm leaning against the wall behind the corner, waiting for Harry. When he sees me more closely, his eyes widen in shock, but I indicate to him to stay quiet by raising a finger to my lips. He snaps his mouth shut, and noddingI gesture him to follow me. In silence we go down the stairs, and once we're outside the building, I turn to face him again. The deep frown is still on his face.

"What was that? And... what the hell happened to your face?" His voice is weirdly demanding, all tense and serious.

My eyes flash in fear, althought he can't see it. Oh damn, not even Guerloin's foundation cream can cover everything, it seems.

I don't know what to say and how much, and I rub the fringe of my nose. "I just didn't feel like facing him just yet." How am I going to explain this?

His question is cautious. "You don't want to see your boyfriend?"

I flinch a little. "It's not exactly like that... Ok, maybe it is. It's true that I don't want to see him, but I wouldn't call him my boyfriend, not really... The thing between Kyle and I isn't really a boyfriend-boyfriend kind of situation. He just is –um- was there. Aagh! This is difficult, he thinks there's something special between him and me, but I don't. I don't love him or anything, I just... am with him. In a way."

Harry shakes his head, and eyes me in a odd way that makes me feel uncomfortable. "That's pretty fucked up, you know."

"Yeah." I smile a little at the whole picture, even though I hate the situation itself.

He searches my eyes that are down-cast. "Was he angry at you yesterday?" I look away, trying to look calm and collected, examining my nails. "Did he cause those bruises?"

Something in my throat clenches in a suffocating way at his question, and even though his voice is low and soothing, I can sense a tint of something else underneath it, too. I have this weird feeling that whatever I tell him, he'd notice my lie and just _know_.

"I –" Oh damn, it feels like my ability to act is gone. Better just avoid the topic, even though I already know that he wouldn't want to drop it. "I'd like to go someplace else. Who knows, Kyle might come out any second."

'_Oh no no no, do NOT look at me that way! I do not want to be pitied!'_

"Draco –"

"Don't! He did not do this to me, I just happened to bump into people who don't like gays." My voice is snappy, I know it, but at least I've made my point clear. I can't meet his eyes as I say this, I look anywhere else but him.

"But –"His voice is urgent, but I cut him off.

"Anyways, I'm going to dump Kyle, I already changed the locks. I had been thinking of it for a long time already."

Harry seems surprised. "Oh." He rubs the back of his neck, and I see him trying to fight a smile, but his eyes are giving him away. I love eyes that can't hide anything and I feel the pull towards him all over again, even though it was never gone. "Well... If that's what you want."

I smile at him. "It certainly is..." Neither of us really looks at the other, and he puts his hands into his pockets, looking down the street.

"So..."

"Why did you come again?" That question bothered me since I saw him back at my flat.

"I don't know. I guess I wanted to ask you for another coffee or something. If you have time."

My eyes flash in delight and licking my lips (I see Harry's eyes flicker on my lips for a second) I nod. "That would be ni-"

Everything happens within seconds, but it's almost as if I saw it in slow-motion.

A new black car with covered registration plates appears out of nowhere, wheels screeching as it makes a sharp turn. The back wheels are sliding on the road so that Harry and I are in the direct spotlight, facing the windows behind which I only see dark silhouettes.

All of a sudden a hand holding something black and shiny is pointed at us from the window.

My breath catches in my throat, eyes widening in cold realisation.

A gun.

I see the person taking the safety catch off with a click, hand steady above the car's side mirror.

"Get down!" I had been totally immobilized, and harshly Harry pulls me down by my arm and we collapse behind a car. He makes me go as flat against the ground as possible, working as a shelter above my body and holding my head.

I hear three bullets being shot and they hit a car, making its alarm system go on, filling the air with a horrible sound. I breathe in an urgent way, almost hyperventilating, and my ability to see freezes for a second.

"Don't move!" Harry whispers in my ear and cautiously rises up a little to look through the cars windows behind where we're hiding. My heart beat's never been this fast, I swear. I am fucking terrified and unable to think straight!

"Potter! This was a warning, you won't get another one!"

With a grating of wheels the car speeds away, leaving the mere smoke of the gunpowder and grave-like silence behind.

Watchfully he rises a bit more, looking around in case it wasn't safe to stand up yet. With a sigh he straightens up and extends his arm to me. "Are you okay?"

Oh, I am okay. Never felt better. Absolutely splendid.

I don't take the arm, I just stare at him from the ground, sitting on my arse in awe.

Those guys just shot at us. They _shot_ at us. I don't know if their goal was to actually hit one of us, or just scare. Which they certainly did.

After a few healing seconds I take a deep breath and, for I've always been the elegant one, shriek: "WHAT THE FUCK WAS THAT ALL ABOUT?"

... TBC ...

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A/N: Sorry it took me so long to update the story, but I had some problems with just about everything. I was amazed by the emount of reviews I got, wow O.O You, my dear reviewers, are absolutely fabulous, and as I've said before, you are my motivation. The chapter number eight is almost written, and I can promise that there's gonna be something that you will like :) 

Here are some answers to reviews, some of them made me smile like a lunatic that I am. ALL of them were lovely, one of you had quite a good question there, too... Sorry I'm not able to answer to all of the reviews, I'd like to, but I'm in kinda hurry and didn't want to make you wait any longer.

**Sarya** I love you. No one's even written a review as long as yours. It was NOT silly! And yes, you are right, I have put a part of myself into Draco's character, it's easy to write when our 'thoughts' are similar.

**Carrot:** Hahaha, no, Harry did not kick Kyle's ass, even though I would have loved something like that, too.

**GaBoO** Nice to hear that you liked the chapter, and no worries, Kyle is not about to disappear just yet. Yes, Kyle is a bastard in so many ways.

**Okami-chan** Draco was beaten up pretty badly, but some persons just are able to deal with pain pretty well. Three painkillers _have_ an affect, after I've taken three I basically float around the house :D

Keep reviewing and I promise the next chapter is going to be uploaded sooner than this one. Motivation, motivation...

**_-_****_Devilita_**


	8. Awake And Dreaming

A/N: As I do in the beginning of every chapter, I'll have to thank my beta-reader, **Sarya**, for doing the job well again. The song is Lifehouse's '_Awake And Dreaming_'. Without further babbling... The chapter number eight!

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_Chapter Eight: Awake And Dreaming_

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I half-glare at him straight in the eye, as I sit on the ground, palms flat against the asphalt and hair mussed. I am not going to stand up before I get some sort of an explanation, not only because I refuse to, but also because my legs are still shaking and I don't trust my balance quite yet.

My eyes, surely as cold as the icy Arctic, bore into his now pale green ones, where the usually so vibrant fire is merely dull at the moment and flickers in an unsure way. I can read the thoughts behind those eyes, the exact same thoughts that I had when Harry asked if Kyle was angry at me yesterday.

'_How much can I tell him?'_

"Harry," I start calmly, taking hold of my wrecked nerves. "What was that?"

He eyes me warily and purses his lips. "I never meant any of this to happen."

I frown. Do I _want_ him to tell me what just happened and what he has to do with it?

"I'm not in good relations with those guys, as you probably guessed, and they want something from me. I don't know how they found me, but now they have an idea where you live, so the wisest thing to do would be for you to find a new apartment as soon as possible."

Blank. Blank blank blank.

I am speechless, all I'm able to do is listen.

"I will help you, of course, since this was my fault and all. Those people will certainly come back to find you, and that way they'll try to find me. And believe me, if they found you they would certainly not treat you like a flower on their palm."

I make a weird high sound in my throat and swallow, still looking at Harry as my anger melts into confusion. "I-"I start, but it feels like my jaw is limp and incapable of forming clear words. "I don't understand."

'_Whoa, aren't you a smart boy.'_, a voice inside my head applauds, and inwardly I glare at it. But I can't deny the truthfulness of its words.

Harry looks at me apologetically. "I'm truly, deeply sorry about that one. It seems like all I do is apologize, first because of Ron and now them." he laughs bitterly and shakes his head.

Now I have forgotten why I was angry in the first place. The way he seems truly sorry apparently has the power to make people forget about their anger.

"No one got hurt, though. This could have ended much worse, you know.", I say, trying to make him look at the things in a more positive way.

"Oh, I can agree with you on that one." A few seconds of silence follows, during which I glance at my palms and brush off the sand and small stones that bored into my skin.

He offers his hand again. "What do you say, should we go someplace else in case the men decide to come back?" I take his hand. The soft contact sends crimson electric shocks straight to my chest. "Or the owner of this car arrives."

I smile a little and he pulls me up. Even though I was terrified just a few minutes ago, somehow I also knew I was safe. Harry was there with me, and when I was incapable of doing anything myself, he acted for me and pulled me behind the car. He was _sheltering_ me with his own body, for goodness sake!

If Harry hadn't pulled me out of the bullets' way I might be bleeding to death on the ground, blood gushing from my mouth like a bubbling spring. I'd cough and cough and cough, seeing everything with a red tint due to splattered blood that got to my eyes, and eventually I'd wear myself out and drown. It's finally sinking in, the fact that I was almost shot is getting to me.

Oh no, not again, I could be a moody woman, I feel my bottom lip quivering pathetically.

_'Look what you did, you went and ruined your trousers, foolish child.' my father hisses at me as I rise from the ground, having just tripped over a paving stone. 'Draco, don't cry in public. Someone might think that something is wrong, and I don't want to give them the wrong impression.'_

_'Wrong impression.'_ I think bitterly and bite my inner bottom lip.

He has an alarmed look on his face at this, but somehow I manage to pull myself together and stop embarrassing myself in front of Harry any further.

"You know," I start in a surprising collected way, "that sounds like a good idea to me." I brush the remaining dirt off my clothes, blink away the beginnings of tears in my eyes, and meet his gaze again.

"Are you alright?"

"Yeah, I'm just in desperate need of a cold shower, but Kyle is probably still waiting for me outside my flat. I'll just go back there once Kyle is gone, he'll give up at some point."

"What are you going to do until then?"

"I don't know. How about that coffee you mentioned?"

As he smiles his beautiful, white teeth flash in an enchanting way that would certainly make many girls weak at the knees. "Perfect." Oh, and to me he is.

We walk to his car, but as he takes out the key and pushes the button, the lights of a red car flash and the locks open. I could have sworn that last time the car was blue and a different shape than this one.

We get in the car and immediately I can see a few droplets of water hitting the front glass. This is so damn weird, everything seems to follow some pattern. Every time I have seen Harry it has rained. On the roof. At the café. Now.

He turns on the radio, and Maroon 5's 'This Love' starts playing. He reminds me to put on my seatbelt, and the car, droning softly, speeds away from the parking area. It might be just me, but I feel like he's driving faster than yesterday, making the turns sharper, and I feel the need to hold the handle in the door to steady myself. The car we're in is a sports car, I can notice that from the way its roof is so low and just generally from the shape. I suck at recognizing cars, so I am not going to make any guesses about this one's brand name.

If Harry truly owns all these cars, he has to be stinking rich. The last night's car was brand new and this one seems to belong to the kind of person who buys cars as a hobby, to pass the time on weekends. I let my fingertips touch the beige leather seat lightly, wondering how on earth Harry can let something filthy like me sit in a car like this. My whole presence in the car feels awkward and somehow wrong. Like when some artist paints a marvellous piece of art, getting credit and being offered huge amounts of money for the painting. Then, after twenty years he suddenly decides to add a new figure in it, making all buyers wrinkle their nose in distaste and withdraw their offers, for the new figure does not belong there, it's not an _original_ part of the painting.

Even before Kyle violated me the way he did, I was nothing but a cheap copy of something that ceased to exist a long time ago, the second I left my childhood home. Back then in the Malfor Manor I was more original, living in the environment I was born in, I was expensive and worth something to someone. The items I owned were actually part of my life, and they truly looked like they belonged to my life at that time. Now that I look at those items that I have for some reason decided to save, I only see the reflection of my former self, and see how they don't belong anywhere anymore. I had nicked those items from the place where they really belong and now they're just sad, mocking reminders of what I used to have. Reminders from the time when I was still approved by my father and my bank account had no bottom at all. And what am I doing now? Trying to blend into an environment that is totally unfamialiar unfamiliar to me, and pretending to be a part of it.

In a way I used to be shackled amongst my money, not being able to go out and play with poorer kids and all, but now I am chained _by_ money, which is not a good option, either. Back then I didn't really know of better, and for years I lived inside a bubble that burst when my father raised his hand to hit me on the cheek. The bubble was forever broken and I had to escape, ending up here.

I am fine with living the way I do now, but it's in human nature to want _more_.

I am not completely sure if my childhood environment is where the 'I' part of me truly _rests_, even though the money my past was full of did make me more confident about the future. My current lifestyle is not a haven, either, but here I am free to be and do whatever I want to, to a certain extent. That was something that took me a long time to get used to. There are plusses and minuses in both ways of living, and unfortunately, it seems like the good sides in both of them can't be combined together. I can't have the wealth and easiness of my childhood _and_ the freedom and independence I have nowadays, it doesn't seem like that would be likely to happen.

Altogether I don't exactly miss the time when I was young, rich and how easy life was, since now I am free in a different way than before. But the freedom has its price, it was so high-priced that I had to sell myself and this is what is left. All elegance was wrenched away violently, leaving gashes and pain behind, and the dirt beneath surfaced. I can buy myself fine clothes, I can hide myself under Christian Dior powder and mascara, but it doesn't change the fact that I'm a cheap, second-hand person.

Yes. I used to be low-cost, but being low-cost doesn't necessarily mean that I'm also dirty. True, I have done many things that have left me stained, but what Kyle did contaminated me all over. He _stole_ me and the remaining droplets of dignity I still had!

I feel exhausted as I start dealing with the pain Kyle afflicted on me for the first time. I had refused to let myself think of the incident too deeply and now it's coming back to me. I knew there would be a point where I understand what happened, and I think this is something that prepares me for the final break-down.

Once again I hold back the tears of anger and smothered anguish, facing the darkened window from which I see my own, faint reflection, and houses and people flashing past in the background. Taking deep breaths, I reassure myself that everything's going to be okay, perhaps not the same as before, but alright nonetheless.

"So",

Startled, I turn to look at Harry, I had forgotten he was there.

"For how long have you known this guy, was his name Kyle?" Harry asks as he stops at the traffic lights.

"Yeah. I met Kyle for the first time something like eight months ago in a bar I went to with a few friends." My voice is surprisingly even, it doesn't even crack as I say his name.

The traffic lights turn green. I glare at nothing in particular, staring directly forwards through the glass.

'_Kyle does not deserve to be talked about in Harry's presence.'  
_

"For that long," he states in a politely curious way.

"Well, yeah. But we weren't anything to each other for many months." Talking about him is like running in waist-high water, it gets me just about nowhere. I learned to swim only a few years ago, and I know that I'm never going to be a good swimmer.

"Aha. And now you're breaking up with him. You mentioned something about you two not living together?"

"He and I have our own apartments, thank God. I couldn't bear living with him in the same flat. He's like a small child, always seeking for attention!" The things I say are mild compared to what I'd want to say, and at the same time refuse to ever say out loud.

"Children need much attention, and sometimes adults do, too." The car turns left. "Children are innocent and rely on their parents, but the need to be taken care of wears off as years pass. At the same time the innocence disappears and we all become old and cautious, unable to trust one another blindly." Harry changes the radio channel. "Children have the kind of innocense that would never allow them to treat other people the way adults do. Just look at the deeds of grown-ups today!"

His laughter is bitter and full of hatred towards our own generation. "Children just can't understand what we do, and I think that many adults don't even know themselves what the hell it is that they're doing."

Harry has no idea how much I can agree with him. I can relate to his story too well for my own liking. In all honesty, I can say that I am lost, and doing things that have no particular purpose.

"Paedophilia, cheating on another person, killing and slaughtering other human beings because of jealousy, misunderstandings or disagreements... Wars, greed, rapes, fights after a few glasses of alcohol, and stalking... Or, when people like Kyle beat the one they claim they love."

I feel blank. Although his words make sense, I can't make sense of myself. I can't understand how, why and when I or Kyle became the way we are.

"I know better than to believe his words that weigh just as much as my non-existent romantic feelings towards him."

The second those words leave my mouth I reslise how I didn't notice Harry's hidden ploy. I freeze, squeezing the side of the seat as I hold my breath. I don't know what I'm waiting for to happen, or not to happen.

Something inside the car shifts and erupts silently. I can easily imagine the sound of a clock ticking somewhere next to my ear, the sign of an agonizing moment that just seems to go on and on.

Harry's calm, smooth voice breaks the silence in the car. "He'll get what he deserves in the end." His face is expressionless, but I can see how he grips at the wheel, fingers almost white and knuckles rock-hard.

"You- Hey! He didn't do anything!" I yell, turning to glare daggers at Harry, not really angry at him, but myself.

Harry pulls the car to the side of the road and turns to look at me directly in the eye.

"You don't have to lie to me, I can see when someone's been beaten up." I want to look away but my eyes are locked to his, it's almost painful. "It doesn't take much for one to put two and two together. Even though I haven't known Kyle for long, I can see what kind of guy he is."

"I just had a small accident on the stairs and that's it."

"Last time you said that you were beaten up by people who didn't like gays."

I blink. "Y-yeah, that's what I meant! I got beaten up by strangers and also fell down the stairs to my flat." Oh hell, I am so busted, even I know it.

"For Christ's sake, Draco! I'm not completely stupid. The asshole hit you!"

"You might just as well be, because he didn't do anything! You're imagining things! And even if he did, it's none of _your_ business!"

He becomes totally silent, Kyle's shout in the corridor in front of my apartment echoes in my head.

"_Anyways it's none of _your_ business. _Draco_'s none of your business. So piss off."_

I turn to look through the front glass, not really seeing anything anymore.

I won't look at him, I don't want to see his expression. I am such a big-mouthed retard... So many times when you can't find the right words to say, you say the wrong ones.

"Draco? Draco, look at me." His calm voice sounds nice in my ears, too nice considering the things I just said, _yelled_, to him, and my own shame makes me look at my feet. I've never been good at apologizing, it's always been something _Malfoys_ aren't exactly good at, for they make no mistakes. Sometimes when my ego isn't big enough I feel the need to say those unburdening words, but my throat dries and everything seems to suddenly get more difficult than it's supposed to be. Apologizes are at the same time both 'just words', but also much more than that.

Harry's voice is so soft, and the mere softness of it would be able to break me, but when the words are even more powerful I'm bound to crash down like a dozen dices piled up on top of each other. "I'm sorry if I said something to upset you."

I'm actually crying now, clear tears running down my flushed cheeks and washing the name 'Malfoy' off my skin.

I'm no Malfoy... What the hell am I?

"Draco, please look at me. It's okay."

It feels hard, but I comply, looking sideways at him. My nose feels strange and tingly, and I sniff. The humiliation of being like this makes me angry at myself, causing me to cry in shame, which only makes me more angry at myself. I am not supposed to be this weak, I'm supposed to be tougher than this. Being gay doesn't mean that I'm supposed to have the mental strength of a fifteen-year-old teenage girl.

His hands comes to wipe away my tears, thumbs soothing my burning cheeks, and he looks at me straight in the eye, holding my chin with the tips of his fingers.

He really looks at me. The intense look he gives me goes right through my topper-most layer of existence, and far beyond it.

I wish I had a curtain to pull in front of those things that I don't want him to see in me. But the problem is, I want him to see straight into my very core, where my inner-most thoughts and feelings lay. I know what I don't want him to see, but if I didn't show him those things, too, I would never be able to show him what I'm really about.

I close my eyes, enjoying the warmth of his palms against my cheeks. I've never felt like someone had truly _seen_ me before like this. The part of me that passers-by can't see was used to being invisible, and now it's almost bare to Harry's eyes.

I'd hate to think that I can be read like an open book. The information someone else would be able to see with a mere side-ways glance might get into the wrong hands. If all or even a few of my secrets, small or not, were to be revealed, it would be possible for me to get totally crushed, and become even more isolated. For even though I _keep in touch_ with people, in reality I live on a deserted island by myself, watching from the bushes as random ships pass it.

"It is not your fault," Harry says in a low voice, facing me, his thumbs soothing the skin right under my eyes before briefly touching my down-cast eyelashes. I feel completely peaceful all of a sudden, I don't really hear anything else but Harry's voice that soothes me the same way the sea soothes some people, as the soft waves hit the sandy shore repeatedly. His other hand pets my hair, brushing a few strands from my eyes and moving them behind my ear. His eyes rake over my features as he rearranges one more silly strand of blond hair behind my pink ear. "It is certainly not your fault."

My tear-filled eyes can only see blurry images and blotches of colour. My breathing is calm, and my crying has turned from ragged sobbing to silent shedding of tears. His fingers run through my hair and slide behind my neck, resting where the hair is short and baby-soft, and his fingertips caress the tender skin there. My eye-sight becomes clearer, tears cease to spill from my swollen eyes, and I notice that the distance between our faces seems ridiculously small, yet not in a threatening way.

Without thinking I reach out and tentatively touch his jaw, shifting on my seat a little. My eyes travel over his features, from hazy eyes to luscious lips, from lips to eyes and back to the lips. My eyes glaze over and my eyelids become heavy, breath coming hotly past my slightly parted lips.

I tilt my head to one side a little, my lips are a mere inch away from his. I close my eyes.

'_This ship can stop at my island.'_

... TBC ...

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A/N: Although it took me quite a while to find the time to write this chapter, I succeeded and hopefully the result pleases you, readers. I had had some major difficulties with it, and even though I had the chapter fully written, it took me _weeks_ to edit it so that it would also please myself to some extent. And although the amount of reviews of the seventh chapter was smaller than the one's before that, some of the reviews I got were motivating enough to make me wanna write this chapter, too :)

I haven't started writing the next chapter at all, but I'll start as soon as I find the time and inspiration. I'm gonna have to study really hard for the next two weeks, since I'm about to attend the exam that gives me the final grade from Swedish (Yes, in Finland we have to study Swedish, too).

Please, since I gave you some H/D slashiness that doesn't just occur inside Draco's head, I beg you on my knees to give me some feedback! Here are some answers to reviews:

Serena MacBeth: yes, I do check all reviews even though quite a while had passed since the last update. Thanks for reviewing, it's always nice to see how new people have found my fic :)

Sheree: You'll find out at some point who/what sorta people those guys were. Everything's just about to start.

driven to insanity: Oh my God, I can't say anything else about your review... I mean, it was LONG. Hehe.

Carrot: No, you cannot hug Harry, he's Draco's, remember? Our sweet little blonde wouldn't like it if you tried to take him away ;) And when have I ever said Harry's a cop?

Saint Angelius: You're right, Harry's not a one-dimentional character. No way.

GaBoO: Indeed, and I'm not going to tell you what exactly I'm hiding here.

-Devilita.


	9. Autumn Shade

A/N: This is the 9th (whoa!) chapter of Acrobat already! The song's _The_ _Vines_'s Autumn Shade, a marvellous song I say. Downloading recommended, it gave me the mood to write this chapter.

This chapter contains Finnish, but seeing as not too many understand it here, there are translations, too. Sorry if they confuse you, I thought it was easier to put them directly after the Finnish speech.

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**_Chapter Nine: Autumn Shade_**

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Lips on lips. Body fluids slickening the sensation. Warm breath on your face, not sure if it's yours or the other's. Inhaling the other's air. Hungry hands roaming all over your body, greedy for the touch, and you shudder as cool fingers grace your bare back.

A kiss like all the ones I've had before and still nothing like them.

Like all teenagers I live in the delusion that there is absolutely no one like the one I fancy at the time, that the person is The One for me. He's all I think about. He's playing the lead role in my dreams. He's the one I hope to bump into when I go to buy noodles at a nearby store.

He's like ecstacy that keeps me going no matter what, the only difference being that Harry could never kill me if over-dosed. Although addictive, Harry is the healthiest drug for me, the one I'm never going to try to get rid of.

The only one, and unique.

If I was more mature and less exalted, I'd admit to myself that there has to be people like Harry someplace else. Harry just happens to be the only individual with the right characteristics that I've come across with.

It's all so mechanical. We want to believe love is like magic, and surely some would want to have a debate on this matter. I shall take no part in discussions like that, for I've never been in love, really. I may have thought so in the beginning, but after a while I've always noticed my mistake, ashamed of my childish ways of thinking. The words based on utopian declarations of love mean nothing anymore and once again I find myself talking about love as if I knew something, when I obviously do not have a clue what it is about. I just talk and talk, like people who pole speeches although they don't know what their fancy words stand for.

I could describe why I like Harry so much, I could list the things in him that make me want him, but then I would only be manipulating you, like I'm being manipulated by my own intuitions. I don't believe that it is possible for someone to define what 'Harry' is about. I can only say what he is to me. People see each other and theirselves in different ways. Let's take, for example, important political figures. No fear, I am not going to voice my own opinion on parties or certain presidents, but as it has been seen, people's opinions are divided. None of the views are right but at the same time they're all correct.

The only thing I know for sure is that Harry's here with me right now and I want him. Screw my love philosophies! The primitive side of me screams "Harry's mine!" and it's way too early to think whether I love him or not.

And I don't even care.

His warm palm rests on my lower back, fingers spread to cover more of me. The other hand is still holding me from the back of my neck, keeping me close. Somehow I've managed to end up in a very difficult position, partly in his lap and spine bent painfully. Damn these modern cars, this one has basically no room at all.

"Harry..." I whisper against his lips, feeling how the hot air makes my face flushed and slightly damp.

He does not acknowledge my sigh but continues ravishing my mouth, tongue sweeping past my lower lip and making contact with mine, teeth nipping at my swollen lips, and silky soft wetness sending me as high as a kite.

Not wanting to part, his lust-driven mind cannot co-operate with his clumsy hands too well as he fumbles with the front of my trousers, touches making the skin under my clothes tingle with excitement.

_zip_

I freeze all over. I feel his lips stopping the movement against mine.

Hastily I pull away from him, breathing hard from kissing and... yeah, just kissing. There is a weird tightening inside my chest, and it feels heavy and aching as if there was a stone too warm somewhere behind my ribcage.

_'What's gotten into me?'_

Harry looks at me, a slight frown on his face. He seems quite unaffected by my rejection but I can't help but think it's only a mask. I don't know what it is that he feels inside him right now. Rather surely disappointment, but are anger or loathing present, too? I lean my back against the backrest, squeezing the doorhandle and without seeing anything I stare in front of me, through the air that seems ridiculously tense and silent at the moment. Swallowing, I focus my eyes and take a side-way glance at Harry, who's apparently looking at the wheel, blank, gripping at it with both hands. I want something to happen, for him to express what is going on in his mind, in words or even a gaze.

Usually I'm the one who makes the moves, dominates the situation and just _knows_ what to do. But now I've run out of words, once again.

Harry inhales, and slowly exhales.

He merely says, "Okay."

The car starts. _'Okay'?_ It should be this difficult but it is. _'Okay? Okay what?'_

The car's soft murmur is drowned by some loud pop music coming from the radio.

"Um..." I mumble, head bowed to look at my hands resting uncomfortably in my lap. They give no help in finding something reasonable to say.

"Harry?" I lift my eyes to look at him, the car's not yet moving. At the same time I want him but something is there in between us, a low barrier but a barrier nonetheless.

"It's honestly okay, I understand. We don't even know each others' surnames."

Harry's laugh is empty and clearly not in the slightest amused. Somehow when I heard him reassure me I was reminded of my last psychiatrist.

"Potter."

He turns to look at me, a question written on his face.

"That's what the men called you."

"Oh, of course. And your name is Malfoy, isn't it? They told it to me at the police station, and since your name isn't exactly common it's easy to remember."

"Ahem, yeah…"

"Listen, do you want to go eat somewhere? I don't think Kyle's about to leave any time soon."

I suppress a smile, and my stomach gives an appreciating sound. "Sounds good to me."

He smiles. "Okay, I know the owner of a good Chinese restaurant not too far away from here."

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Slumping onto my sofa I dreamily stare through the ceiling, a content and slightly drunken grin on my lips. I sigh and let myself lay in that position, listening to the silence of my apartment. In the kitchen I hear the water tap leaking, droplets falling into the sink in a steady rhythm every eight seconds. I reach out with my hand and grab the remote from the table, turning the CD-player on.

I loosen my grip and let the remote fall to the carpet softly, my hand resting in an awkward position over the edge of the sofa, my whole body relaxing and my happily hazy mind losing every logical thought.

Soft music starts playing. The song's name is Autumn Shade. Mentally I can feel myself drifting away from my body, and rise up, up, up into the skies where there is no wind. This is of course only my own imagination, in which children think they can fly just about anywhere. There's no doubt about it, pretty often children truly are happier than adults due to their ability to break free from reality. I cannot hear the lyrics, but I know that I was never able to interpret them too well… Who cares, the words nevertheless sink into me like a spoon into strawberry ice-cream during summer.

-

_Slip into the autumn shade_

_I could sleep for days _

_But I like the sun when _

_I can hear another sound _

_It's a long way down_

_Keep my head up_

_-_

I can picture myself floating among light pink clouds somewhere where I can't even see the ground, and golden particles rain down on me. A pair of beautiful white birds are sleeping on one of the clouds, snuggling closer to each other. I smile and bury myself into that warm nothingness that keeps me from falling through the air…

-

_Who am I to be this way _

_Dreamin__' so insane _

_But I like the sun when _

_Falling through another plan _

_Never one the same_

_Keep my head up_

_-_

I am somewhere between Dreamland and wakefulness, all muscles relaxed and mouth hanging open in an unattractive way. I ought to go sleep in my bed, but it's so nice here, the bedroom's too many steps away…

_"Bleep bleep bleep bleep!"_

My mobile phone's tune starts ringing. With a start my dream world crashes down like a card castle. I scramble into a sitting position and get the phone from my coat pocket.

"Hello?" I say.

On the other end someone seems to be fighting with their phone, accidentally pushing wrong buttons.

"Hello? Is anyone there?"

"Ah, Draco."

The voice and the way he says my name sounds so familiar… in a bad way.

Shakily I ask, "Yes…? Who's this?"

"Can't you recognize your father's voice?"

As I recognise the voice, icy feathers sweep down my spine.

"Why are you calling me? How the hell did you get my number?"

"Oh, but why such hostility? A father is allowed to call his son every now and then."

He sounds too friendly, overly such, I'd say. Like sweet poison that kills after a day or two, insidiously while you sleep.

"If I don't remember wrong" I hiss, "you said I'm not your son. I remember you calling me a 'pathetic little faggot' instead."

I grit my teeth and squeeze the phone in my hand, wishing that I was able to squeeze my father's throat instead.

I hear laughter from the other end of the phone call. "My my, don't you seem cranky or what. Have you become a housewife already?"

That's it. "WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU WANT?"

He laughs, "You have obviously lost your sense of humour."

I growl. I feel the air shifting, suddenly his voice is low, familiarly cold and collected, the way I remember it to be, and the way his voice sounds like in my nightmares.

"To meet you."

Keeping my voice monotone, I ask, "Why?

There's a pause.

"WHY?"

I can hear his malevolent smile in his voice, "We have to discuss certain matters."

"I don't want to have anything to do with you." Monotone.

I lower the phone and look at it as it lies on my palm.

"Draco, you're not –"

_click_

I look at the space in front of me, eyes seeing only air and not registering anything. My whole being and even my thoughts feel numb, like I am stuck in one second. This happens awfully often nowadays, me freezing all over.

My mind doesn't register how I put the phone onto a table, and how I walk back into my living room automatically, like a robot that is being moved by someone holding a remote control. I turn off the music and head for my bed.

Sleep won't come that night.

… TBC …

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A/N: I haven't started on the next chapter yet, we'll see when it appears. Reviews are more than welcomed, I love feedback. Here are some answers to the reviews I got last time:

**Vimy** Whoa, well here's the chapter! O.O Thanks.

**Unknown (even to me:** Finns don't come from Hungary, pfft! We've a Caucasian race, but been in contact with Swedes and so forth for so long that there aren't any 'pure-blooded' (hehe) Finns left. I have some British and Swedish blood in me, although I'm totally Finnish. I've heard that Finns are whiter than Swedes anyhow, so it more than serves my purposes when it comes to Draco's looks. The language is different, though. It IS related to Hungarian and Estonian.

**demonflower** Thanks, I do make mistakes but luckily I have a marvellous beta-reader whose native language IS English.

**driven**** to insanity:** Yes, I love this Draco, too. Unfortunately he's quite taken already, though :P

**Nukkuja:** Taidat olla suomalainen, eh? You will find out who Harry is, yes, eventually.

**Saint Angelius:** I am truly grateful for that comment o.o I don't try to make the characters complex, they just become like that by themselves :D And yeah, my exam went like hell but hey, it's over now. It took me a while, but here we are alive and kicking.

**badboyblondEsgurl** Bo ohoo, what's wrong with my summary? Oh well, thank you for the review, it's always nice to hear that people appreciate what you write.

**SilverDragon161:** Heh, it wasn't Harry who pulled away.

**ura** I did it because I can. Njeh njeh. No honestly. Thanks, I love writing something slightly psychological:)

**darkest**** demon child:** You got what you wanted, and almost a bit more than that ;)

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_-__Devilita_


	10. Sing for Absolution

_A/N: First of all, I am sorry for not updating this fic for ages. Thank you for the offers to beta read for me, thank you, thank you, thank you! The biggest thank you belongs to _**Marijn**_, of course, who is also my beta for The Final Solution._

_The song of the chapter is called Sing for Absolution and it's by Muse._

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_-_

_Chapter 10: Sing For Absolution_

_-_

_A slight breeze runs across my face, making a few loose strands of hair tickle the corners of my eyes a bit. The breeze is chilly and the ground under my body feels cold. For some reason the coldness brings a forgotten memory from my childhood into my mind, the time when my father made me wear his green scarf one winter when I was building a snow castle at our cottage in Lapland. That was the only time he has ever done something like that for me, but I don't think he did it from the goodness of his heart. I had had pneumonia just a few weeks before the trip and Lucius probably didn't want to ruin his holiday by having an ill child to take care of. Nevertheless, at the age of eleven I liked to imagine that he did it out of love._

_Opening my eyes I see a red sky above me. Purple clouds, resembling me of ripped or stretched cotton wool, run across it at a much, much faster pace than normal clouds. From the corner of my eye I can see a few branches of a tree, perhaps an old oak, reaching for the crimson sky. Turning my head to the side I can see how the poor plant is dead as burnt and black as coal. Its weirdly bent branches and twigs remain still, pointing in every direction at angry angles even though it's very windy.._

_I try to sit and see how my fingers press into the ice-cold, soft ground. The grass around my fingers is uncut and black, shining in a metal-like way and staying immobile despite the wind, just like the branches of the burnt tree. Clouds disappear behind the horizon almost even before you have seen them._

_I stand up and look behind me, seeing the same grass grow as far as my eye-sight allows me to see, and another similar tree stands alone some distance away from the spot where I am at the moment._

_Two suns parade in the sky, one white, the other black. Purple clouds hide them for a fraction of second every now and then, transforming the white sun's light to purple. The black sun stands on the left of me and the white one on the right, as far away from each other as possible, but nevertheless not so far away that the other would disappear behind the horizon. It feels like the suns are observing one another, like enemies with disagreements and grudges that were due to events that happened even before anything else existed. For some reason I don't think they have cardinal points here at all._

_As I stand there, I feel how the wind starts blowing harder; it blows between my fingers and musses my hair. The purple clouds aren't running across the sky anymore; it looks like they are creeping just enough to be seen from beyond the horizon and just stay there as if to frame the edges of the landscape._

_The wind is so hard now that I find it difficult to stand, so instead I choose to sit down again._

_As my bottom touches the ground, there's a young child sitting next to me in light yellow pyjamas._

"_Hello, did you come to watch it, too?"_

_I am looking at myself from fifteen years ago._

_I look at him and his expensive-looking silk pyjamas with black grass-stains on the knees. He is sitting cross-legged, leaning on his hands behind him and smiling ever so slightly. He calmly looks to the sky and points at it with his index finger._

_I turn to look, too, and see that the suns are moving. All of a sudden I hear this noise. It's like humming, the kind of humming that machines make and I'm reminded of the time when I stood in an elevator with my dad when he took me to see his office at the age of ten._

"_They've never done this before."_

_I look at the boy with a frown on my face, not understanding what exactly it is that is about to happen, and then continue watching the course of events._

_The suns get nearer and nearer each other, clouds advancing towards the suns as the distance between the shining orbs decreases little by little._

_They are almost touching now, and suddenly the ground on which I sit feels wet and it leaves my palms and fingers stained in black mud._

_There is a loud crack, much like lightning and I can actually see the power erupt from both broken suns in the form of some sort of air wave that resembles the ripples water droplets create on the surface of a puddle, wiping the spying clouds away silently._

_The suns' opposite powers are mixed with each other and their shells disappear, leaving whirling green, thick smoke and white mist dancing in the middle of the sky._

_Suddenly there's a blinding light. A light that is brighter than anything I've ever seen and I cover my eyes in pain._

_The stinging soon becomes duller and cautiously I look to the sky again, the boy still sitting next to me._

_Just a few uncountable moments ago there were two suns, one black and one white, but now only one can be seen in the sky. It is not mere whirling mist anymore, it looks solid and firm and right and real._

_I smile as I look at the sun that does not really have a colour at all, it's just bright. Not in a white nor yellow sort of way, the brightness simply has no particular hue._

_The boy turns to look at me, sighing. "Things always tend to change, don't they?"_

_A pressure wave suddenly knocks me over and instead of ending up on my back on the ground I go through it, doing a somersault and falling into a pitch-black void._

* * *

When I wake up I am not lying on my back like usual in the mornings but instead, my cheek is pressed against the pillow, which I am clutching like a drowning man hangs onto a piece of wood in a storm. My window is open and the bedroom is a bit too cool for my liking, so I get up. 

As I close the window I get the feeling that I did not finish my dream, but instead it lingers and my head is even more messed up than before, if possible. I have been dreaming about suns, skies and horizons unusually often lately. For some reason I feel frustrated, and have a weird itchiness in my chest. I go make some coffee and stuff myself with something that tastes of nothing but fills me up. As I sit at my uneven table that has one loose foot I hold the mug in my hands and just look to the street out of my window. It seems like they are opening a new shop across the street.

* * *

There is a knock on my door. I turn the hoover off and go check who the guest is. Glancing at the front of my shirt I see a layer of grey dust and, scowling, I try to wipe it off. 

From the peephole I see Kyle looking straight at me and my heart jumps in my chest. I can feel the pumping in my throat.

The sight of him makes me feel nothing less than strange.

I feel disgusted and betrayed, ashamed and weak, but somehow an unexplainable sense of both relief and sadness washes over me as I look at the face that used to look at me in a loving way when we made love but also twisted into something unknown and ugly and violent the last time I met him. It was like when you eat the icing off of a nice confection and then you find something nasty underneath.

His face is so familiar that even though he did terrible things to me I cannot help but see flashes of him from the time when I first met him. The Kyle I met last time was either wearing a mask or that is what he really is like. Sounds so awfully twisted and illogical but then again, I was never completely normal.

My fingers touch the lock lightly but not enough to open it.

"Draco, I know you're in there, I heard you hoovering. Please, open the door." I gulp and hear the desperation in his voice. It is making my throat clench in frustration or anticipation. "You have no idea how sorry I am and how my heart shattered into a million pieces when I realised what I had done to you. You're the most precious thing in my life, I love you! Please, let me in." I take a firmer grip.

'_Then why did you do what you did?'_

Kyle continues, "If I do something you can use that baseball bat on me, the one I bought for you when you said it'd be nice to play baseball sometime. You learnt fast."

Maybe I overreacted. Of course he was to suppose that I had been cheating on him, all the signs were there, after all. Harry's cologne and so forth… I wouldn't like it if my boyfriend smelt of someone else; I would have a tantrum, really. Maybe Kyle just lost it for a brief second because he cares for me so much. He's only human, like everyone else, and he could have treated me a lot worse but he didn't.

Coming to my senses and shaking my head clear of those false justifications and self-accusations, I decide to let Kyle come in to say whatever it is he wants to say and to get the things he needs, not including me, of course. I was merely an item, a possession to him, after all. I tell myself that he cannot justify his deeds in any way; you are not supposed to beat up and abuse those you love. He hasn't had an easy life and his parents were quite fucked up so I guess I will have to feel some pity towards him. I open the door and look him in the face, my own expression blank and uncaring.

"Thank you, Draco."

His voice is soft and I feel like screaming like an animal. He is supposed to act like a total bastard! It would be so much easier to hate him. Don't get me wrong, I despise Kyle to no end but he is supposed to _feed_ my hatred!

"I am extremely ashamed of myself and see why you did what you did. I mean, why would you take me when you can have anyone you want, someone who is equally perfect with you and much better than me? I know you must hate me, _I_ hate myself, too. Unless you want to press charges, which I would completely understand, I am going to disappear from your life once I have collected all my things."

"I –" I croak, throat dry and I swallow. I see a light of some sort of hope flashing across his eyes but also an endless abyss of apologies and pleading.

"Yes?"

I bite my lower lip. "Why did you do it?"

"I… don't know. I really don't know. I just snapped when I smelt someone else on you, I didn't think, I should have. It just made me so incredibly envious and I felt like I wasn't enough, so I wanted to hurt you for hurting me. The idea of you wanting someone else just made me lose it."

I listen to his every word and in a way understand what he's saying. I did have something going on with Harry. The fact that practically nothing happened, not at that time, does not justify what I did. I did or would have liked to have something going on with Harry. I do not say it out loud, but I was sorry.

"I'm going to go get my stuff. I take it you haven't destroyed them yet?"

I shake my head.

"Okay."

I rub my eyes, annoyed, as I hear him looking for his random items, throwing them into his bag. I had told Harry I was going to leave Kyle but now it feels like he's leaving me and I ought to protest and tell him how I love him. But I don't. I don't protest or love him. When I had opened the door I had felt uneasy and scared and cautious, but now I'm just angry and clenching my fists until the knuckles turn white. He does not deserve the insufferably calm appearance he is sporting! He should not be sorry; he should be the way he was when I last saw him! Raging, wanting to abuse me, humiliate me and deny me my freedom! It would be so much easier to hate him and tell him to fuck off. He is playing his cards well, if I don't control myself he'll be the victim. I cannot allow him that privilege.

He zips the bag closed and comes back to the hallway where I am still standing, arms at my sides, the epitome of calm. He stops in front of me.

"I guess a kiss goodbye would be too much to ask?"

I narrow my eyes dangerously but stay silent and gently he swipes his index finger along my jaw line, lifting my chin up. I look at him with cool eyes.

"You have to promise me you'll leave me alone."

He smiles at me. "I promise."

The slight touching of our lips seals something between Kyle and me. Both of us know we were something that could never have offered enough for either of us. We have reached an agreement and I am able to exhale for the first time in a long time.

I keep my eyes shut and hear the door closing behind him.

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A/N: I have started on the eleventh chapter already but next I am going to update The Final Solution sometime in the near-ish future. I know, there wasn't much happening in this chapter, not in the action sort of way but I promise you that the chapter eleven is going to be a bit more eventful. 

Reviews would be much appreciated!


	11. Any Day Now

A/N: It took me almost a year but here it is; the next chapter for Acrobat. Yay. As I concluded with my beta reader, **BlueMonkeyz8**, every time I update something I seem to be either drunk or hung-over. This time I'm just pissed out of my mind (but not drunk on Bailey's, I'm not actually that well-off at the moment) and cannot really see the keyboard so please forgive me my grammar. luckily I have some program to check the spelling. I hope this chapter was worth the wait.

The song I listened to while writing this chapter was Elbow's 'Any Day Now'.

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_Chapter 11: Any Day Now_

-

My flat sighed in relief as all the evidence of Kyle disappeared along with his possessions. The dust that had gathered in the corners of my apartment since the last time I tidied it up were also gone now. I was sure there were pictures of him and me together somewhere and on my shelves there were gifts that he had given me. In general, though, it felt like he was never here at all. Memories were carved into every piece of furniture I had and when I took my seat behind my desk, I remembered how I used to write dozens of letters to Kyle back in the days when he was serving in–

'_Oh, stop it, Draco!'_ I told myself, irritated.

I shook my head, somewhat amused, and decided to sell all my furniture along with the apartment.

Only a few hours after Kyle had left, my phone rang.

"Hello?" I was aware of how some might find it rude how I do not say my name but one has to be cautious… I changed my phone number immediately after my father had called me.

"Draco? Hey, it's me, Harry. How are you?" His voice sounded care-free, and I was very happy he wasn't Kyle or Lucius.

"I'm fine, thanks. How –"

"Look, have you looked for an apartment yet? My friend just moved and her flat is free now. I was just thinking you might be interested in it, since the rent is not high and its location is brilliant," Harry interrupted me, and normally it would annoy the hell out of me, but I was just curious. He sounded so excited somehow and I found myself smiling at his boy-like eagerness. "And she's a perfectionist herself, so I'm sure the apartment is in good condition, too."

I stretched. "Is that so?"

"I'm sorry for calling you this early, but you know, it'd be good if you found a new place to live as soon as possible."

"It's okay; I've been awake for a few hours already."

"I know it's not even twelve yet, but would you be interested in having a look at the flat? I could come pick you up in an hour. And if you want, we could, I dunno, go have lunch somewhere?"

I couldn't help but smile and tell Harry that, yes, it suited perfectly, see you then, click.

Indeed, the apartment was perfect for me and I found out that Harry and Hermione, the previous inhabitant of the flat, had gone to the same school together. When I tried asking what school it had been they had given me some very vague answer, and so I didn't press the issue any further. I guess I'll never really find out who Harry really is and where he comes from, and while that thought might have been slightly unnerving, his mysteriousness was highly intriguing.

As planned, I sold all my furniture along with the old flat and moved in a week. I knew that it shouldn't have been possible, not with such a short notice, but apparently Harry had been extremely good at negotiating with my landlord.

'_No, Draco, let me help you. I can go talk to him while you pack here, ok? You do remember that the furniture store you talked about closes earlier today?'_

The moving process had been very easy. My new apartment was in the seventh floor but luckily there was an elevator in the story building. Harry was there to help me almost every day, and he even offered to help me with taking my new sofa, tables and other furniture to my new place with his van. I don't have a driving license at all so it would either have cost me some extra money or an aching back had Harry not offered his help. I enjoyed his company immensely, and from the way he often gave me that slightly crooked grin, he also liked being around me. Sometimes I got this strange, warm and fuzzy feeling and just wanted to… just wanted to be with him. Not out of gratitude, of course, but because he was _Harry_ and so utterly, indescribably charming and funny, not to forget that he was fucking gorgeous!

Over the last five days he had always taken me to have a dinner with him.

"You've got gorgeous hair, did you know that?" Harry asked me one day when we had been at the Great Wall, a Chinese place, and somehow that conversation had led to hair modelling, hairdressers and eventually I had somehow ended up considering that as my profession. I'd always been outrageously fixated on hair, but never had it occurred to me that I could actually become a hair stylist myself.

I had quit my job at Burger King ages ago already and now I worked at small boutique selling shoes. Courtney, the young woman who owns the shop, was in a need of an assistant and one day when I had walked in to buy black shoelaces she had just asked me if I needed a job. The place was only a short walk away from my new flat, and the salary was quite a lot better than in my previous job. Lady Luck had never been this merciful before and I was over the moon.

The last two weeks had been the busiest and most life-changing weeks of my life. I had almost committed suicide, met a fabulous guy, been killed, I had been – um, I'd left Kyle, I had moved out, decided to become a hair stylist and got a new job. When summarising it all, it might seem that everything had happened so very fast, but I did not doubt the importance of these changes. I threw away all of my nail polishes (except for the translucent one), the dark eye-liners, and left that part of my life behind. The Ziggy shirt only brought back bad memories and so I made a rag of it. The time for faking and drifting was over.

It was a Saturday evening. Harry and I had been at a Nepalese place to eat dinner and while my dish had been the slightest bit too spicy, Harry had absolutely loved the food. Then again, he wasn't exactly picky and ate like a small, hungry village. By the time we got to my place, it was dark and drizzling softly. There were thin rivulets running down the windows of the black taxi and there was some soul song playing on the radio. The street lamps made the puddles on pavements and rain droplets on windows shine yellow. There was a brief, polite debate on who was going to pay for the ride, but in the end it was me, since I outright refused to let him pay both for the dinner and the taxi.

"Want to come inside for a drink?" I asked.

"Sure," he smiled, and I smiled back.

Yes, I liked walking to the building in the rain, because I was with him. Yes, I liked being unnecessarily close to him on the elevator. Yes, I liked it how he laid his other hand on my hip as I fumbled with my keys and cursed silently as I still didn't immediately recognise the one that fit into my door. And OH, YES, I liked how he politely helped me out of my coat. Genuine chivalry is totally lost to most of the men that one meets nowadays.

"So, what would you like?"

He went to sit on the new, white sofa and looked around approvingly. "Depends what you have."

"Do you like Bailey's?"

"Yeah, thanks."

I went to the kitchen and took a bottle out of the cupboard, put some ice cubes in two glasses and poured the delicious, creamy alcohol onto them. The mere sight was enough to make my mouth water. I'm not an alcoholic, but for someone who loves sweetness and chocolate, Bailey's is probably a somewhat natural choice, or so my logic tells me.

I handed Harry his drink and slumped down next to Harry, not caring how elegant I looked or how very plebeian it was of me to just let myself half lay and half sit on it with my legs in a generous v. With a glass of Bailey's in one hand and the other resting on the arm rest, I felt incredibly satisfied and at ease.

"Cheers."

"Cheers." Clink.

"So you actually went to the first lesson?" Harry asked, and I inclined my head towards him slightly but didn't look him in the eyes.

"Yeah, I did, and I really think this is going to work out. I'm quite convinced this is my thing."

He took a sip. "That's good to hear. Not many want to make a career out of working at Burger King for their whole life."

"It was just convenient. Nothing very ambitious, but I got by and that's what mattered."

"I know. I used to work at a warehouse for canned beans when I was 14 or 15. Haven't been able to look at canned beans since."

"Strange to think of you working at a warehouse, what with you and your fancy BMW's and shiny Fords." I took the remote control from the table and put Elbow on to play in the background.

There was a moment of silence in the room. I have no idea what Harry was thinking, but I couldn't help but wonder what it was that he did nowadays. All those expensive cars… his sudden appearance on the roof… the air he carried and the reactions he got from other people… whatever it was, I wasn't going to ask.

After a couple of more sips, I had finished my glass. "Would you like some more? I also have some interesting sal ammoniac liquor if you want a shot. It's imported."

Harry stretched on the sofa, making me shift unconsciously as he groaned. "No, thank you," he said, and placed the empty glass next to mine. "I ought to cut down on my alcohol consumption. I haven't even smoked for weeks now."

"Right, um…." I sat back on the sofa, moving unnoticeably closer to Harry. "That's… good. Good for you." I noticed that as Harry had stretched, the shirt had run up a little and hadn't settled back to its place; there was a strip of delicious, tanned skin showing. "I ought to stop smoking as well; I don't want to ruin my teeth. But then again, I guess it also prevents me from gaining weight. Of course, I'd rather be fat than die of cancer. Perhaps. I don't know. I don't know how difficult lung cancers are. But if I was fat I might – Why are you looking at me like that?" His eyes were glinting with amusement, which might have made me blush if my skin tone allowed that. "I'm babbling, aren't I? Alright, I'll just – um."

'_Draco, what the fuck? Yes, you're babbling. Stop it, stop it, stop it right this instant!'_

I snapped my trap shut, embarrassed, and heard Harry chuckle lightly.

"True, true."

Our knees bumped and I looked up. He was sitting with a little bit more posture than I was as he looked down at me. His arm was perched on the back of the sofa, and I could feel the warmth radiating from him as I sat very, very close to him, almost touching but not quite.

As those cool eyes of his observed me, a tender smile graced the corner of his mouth.

Sliding up a bit, and turning slightly sideways, I laid my hand on his stomach and felt how it was delightfully flat under the beige sweater he was wearing. The small sparks the little touch created were alive, warm and…wonderful.

Harry's hand dropped from the back of the sofa and I felt it press the small of my back, finders playing with the hem of my black button-up and occasionally touching my extremely sensitive and ticklish skin. None too hesitantly, my hand crawled up his stomach and chest, settling on his shoulder. His left hand slowly moved to my side and he shifted to cup the back of my head with the right.

That's when I lost the little control I had. In a blink of an eye I was straddling his lap and pressing my lips into his, forcing his head backwards so it rested on the back of the leather sofa. Soon I felt his hand travel up and down my back, bringing me closer to him.

"Mmh…" I felt him lift his hips a bit, and I smiled as Harry squeezed my arse gently.

Grabbing his shoulders tightly, I continued ravishing his mouth like a hungry lion. Suddenly his fingers were on the buttons of my shirt and swiftly he fumbled them open, sliding the garment off my shoulders and smoothing my sides lightly with his fingers. I leaned back and tugged at the sweater he was wearing as he lifted his arms up.

"Oh, fuck _me_!" I panted as I laid my eyes on the glinting small ring piercing his left nipple. With wide eyes, I looked at Harry in the eyes. "You're full of surprises, aren't you?"

"You have no idea." Again, he gave me that disarming smile of his, eyes narrowing mischievously. "There's only one way for you to find them out."

Not giving any warning, Harry flipped me over and I was lying on my back, staring at my darker companion, who lay between my thighs, hands perched on either side of my ribs.

"Got lube?" he asked, once we were both naked as babies on my sofa.

Heart pumping in my chest wildly, I answered, "Yeah, in the bedroom."

TBC

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A/N: Want more? 


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